Perishing Eve...!!!!

I see,
the flying birds
every morning.
I wonder,
what do they see
every day.
I hear them sing
returning to their nests,
every evening.
I wonder,
what do they talk
Every night.

The red pool or
dry stream,
the barren land or
the barbwire in between,
the injured brother
or the killed mother
the missing father
or the raped daughter


I wonder,
every night they might
be telling stories,
of the changing Adam and
the Perishing Eve.