Your face is a map
of all the wars
you ever fought,
physical, mental,
against others,
against yourself.

You think those lines
might have softened
when your heart ceased.

You think you might
have had some peace
then, some peace,
you would think,

some peace,
I would hope,
if your splintered life
had not disproved the possibility
of its existence.

© 2018, Edward Lee