War
All over the world,
In the fractured streets and the dark houses,
Swollen, sore hearts feel the sting of this conflict.
Burning grief and white rage,
Cling to the crumbling faith of souls.
The television,
Unplugged in the empty rooms,
Screams of blood and bodies.
The radio buckling under the weight,
Of a thousand broken bones,
And so many missing names.
In the alleyways of discarded hope,
Untamed wolves howl in sorrow.
In the playgrounds of lost innocence,
Unappeased spirits wail in anguish.
On the white marble of a bathtub,
Left out in the rain,
Blood trickles steadily,
Through the plughole,
Into the gutter.
On the doormat of a derelict house,
Is a letter.
Opened,
Five years back,
Yelling in the blank faces of families,
Saying,
"Hello, we're so sorry for your trouble.
Your son is dead.
But not to worry,
There's plenty more out there to replace him."
Tears fall silently,
From the eyes of the people in the photographs,
Stacked on the dusty shelves.
Long dead,
Their ghosts weep in the cupboards
Of your bedroom,
Forgotten.
Their names are a few leaves in a forest,
A scribble on a long list,
Wound tightly around hypocrisy.
And on the sandy beaches,
A child runs, splashing into the sea,
Turns back to her family,
Who are torn from existence on this Earth,
Right before her eyes.
Women stand on deserted doorsteps,
Dull engagement rings on their fingers,
Knowing their fiancés will never return from their nightmares.
Knowing they will never be a bride.
The streets throb and moan as one,
Vacant faces press against crystal,
Glaring in at the blazing screens,
Each one declaring death and bloodshed is here.
And in the fire everything is burning,
Everything good, everything right.
Everything that is moral,
Burning in flames.
And shards of Heaven
Melt in dead children's tears,
Singing laments as they fall to the bitter ground,
Sucked into the pools of blood.
In darkness, there is no light.
In doubt, there is no faith,
And in this conflict, there is no peace.
No peace.
No peace to soothe the raging crowd,
Which runs, and shouts, and fights as one,
Where the empty padded suits rise up
And swing shields and clubs,
And the shells fall again,
Ready to choke the rage,
Back into humiliated submission.
No peace.
And in my dreams,
The sky is dark.
The air shaking with gunfire,
The long grass trembles,
The children are dancing in flowers,
Their bodies fragile, glass-like.
Shadows grow and clasp my wrist.
The fires burn, and I cry.
My neighbours wounding my heart,
And I do not know how to love them,
My dearest friends, my greatest enemies,
As the conflict burns away my world.
