For a Confused Country

the melody of bullet rings in the ears
of children who gather to hold the
rope of unity yanked by axes in the
hands of men who bury the memory
of dawn in order to listen to the song
of storm – breaking the roofs.

the melody of bomb rips the hearts
and bodies into pieces of unidentified carcasses waiting for funeral in a country
where they tow coffins to where life
is a whisper in the wind

the fire of bomb rises
tonight in a city where the walls bear
the images of those who die without
names nor voices…

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2 comments

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