The Priory Lit. Mag

Sikander Sohail
"So...

Soldiers compare scars;
each calls forth a memory...
but mine tell no tales.

you jokingly say you've been scarred for life but if that were the case-
would you know it?
could you pull back your sleeve a month from now, thumb the jagged, dead mountains on the map of your skin and and bring it to life long enough to tell a story?
could exposure conjure a ghost long enough to tell a cautionary tale?

"This is how I died. Take care you meet not my fate."

For I'll sit down with anyone who can pull back the sleeves of his persona,
reveal the flesh of her psyche,
and tell the story of every single scar, how it got there, why.

I'll listen to anyone who can conjure those ghosts to whisper of martyrdom and suicide
of dragons ablaze or honorable duels to the death of innocence
or rationality,
the carving of jade into any of 6 billion animals of the orient...with awe
with attention
with reverence for the reverse engineered blueprint of the human bieng
split 6 billion ways from
Sunday,
Sunday,
SUNDAY!

But.

I won't compare scars
I can't roll up my sleeves yet
and speak for the dead.

Sorry."