A poem for the ones who wanted peace but could not speak

As death stuck
to our bare skin,
like dirt on a humid day
we learned to spell peace,
we learned to spell love,
we learned to spell unity,
o how we wish, we had
nothing to regret
o how we begged to forget
o how we wish, we could
bring back the gone,
to a safe house
with a bed to sleep
and not a grave
to rest in peace

– Kaya