Photo/illustration: Alex Tomoff

You are asleep
In front of your TV.
The news is over, it is late.
Reruns of Friends are on. You dream.
What your TV didn’t tell you and what the news forgot about—
That broken woman, they say she’s ill, they call her crazy.
Her will is broken; her mind is snapped,
Her heart is dust.
That’s who your news forgot about.
They found her among the ruins,
She tried to breastfeed her child
Although the child was dead for days.
The child was cold.
She held his little body and sang him lullabies. She even tried to feed him.
She even tried to feed him.  

Her heart is dust.

That’s what your news forgot.
She was left for dead, but they only killed her mind.
Unluckily, her body lived.
She made statistics, never made it to the news.
They found her among the ruins, she was left for dead.

*

Soldiers found her in the ruins
Days after the attack.
She wasn’t even crying. Her eyes were dry, her heart was dust.

Funny thing, when soldiers found her
Few of them cried and she did not.
Later on they were told it’s unpatriotic to talk about it.
Because if you find out about it
You might get cranky. 
And good patriots
Deserve a restful sleep.

*

They found her in your city, she was left for dead
By her pimp who refused to pay for meds.
The news won’t bother with scum like that.
Police found her on the street.
She tried to breastfeed her child
Although the child was dead for days.
The child was cold.
She held his little body and sang him lullabies. She even tried to feed him.
She even tried to feed him.  

*

They found her in Detroit.
They found her on the streets of Baghdad.
They found her in the Paris ghetto.
They found her in Kabul.
They found her on the streets of Berlin.
They found her in your town.
She was left for dead.

Her heart is dust.

She made statistics, never made it to the news.
She was left for dead, but they only killed her mind.
Unluckily, her body lived.

You are asleep.

The news is over, it is late.

In his debut poetry collection, Sasha Sabota—a former criminal journalist—pioneers a new form of self-healing experience through writing. Through his words Sasha reveals deep social wounds and his own experience facing them. It is all too real.

If you want to support an independent artist you know what to do ↓↓↓↓↓↓

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