invasion

seven days 
since her maternal longings 
were swaddled
securely
in a blanket of bliss holding 
the wrinkled warmth
of first breaths

seven years 
waiting 
in the desolate 
desert 
at last sprung to life 
bone of her bones
flesh of her flesh

then the tanks rolled in

heart full but vessels empty
she could give him everything
except the one thing

stores shuttered 
pharmacies phalanxed
no formula 
to the scared millions
sent scattering
by machiavellian machinations

desperation’s
anxious fingers 
squeeze 
the air out of her lungs
as she gathers up 
the last ounces
of strength into her belongings
joining the caravan along e-forty

she pleads
look 
upon my misery 
remember 
me

she prays
forgive them 
for they know 
not what they do
seventy times seven
once for each passing soldier

clinging to hope
in her beleaguered arms

Written by Scott Moore
Illustrated by Landon Wideman

Inspired February 2022