The Fallen Leaf’s Echo, a poem by Ali Imran

Today, I am like a fallen leaf,

not the fall leaf

whose colors you cherish

for I’ve been blemished

with the blood of the innocent

humans are spilling again.

Ah, it feels like I am mired

irrevocably,

and lack the courage to say

if I could ever wash away

the bloody blots

with my tears,

dewdrops

or even showers.

Felled and hurting,

I am but a wound,

cleft open

by the ferocity

of a double-edged sword –

wrongful convictions

and the canceling narratives

of malice and exclusion.

But I will not just give in

to their war drums

and with rustling winds

join the kinder souls to echo

the songs of life.