I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color, but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight. I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies and they were real close to looking like the sunrise, and sometime it takes the most wounded wings the most broken things to notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight.

..when a war ends, what does that look like exactly? do the cells in the body stop detonating themselves? does the orphanage stop screaming for its mother? when the sand in the desert has been melted down to glass and our reflection is not something we can stand to look at does the white flag make for a perfect blindfold? yesterday i was told a story about this little girl in Iraq, six-years-old, who cannot fall asleep because when she does she dreams of nothing but the day she watched her dog eat her neighbor's corpse. if you told her war is over do you think she can sleep?

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

The holy have done more damage to this world than the devil ever could.

We have to create; it is the only thing louder than destruction.

I thought, "The flowers, save the flowers..." I never thought for a second we wouldn't save the people

Do you know they found land mines in woman's souls.