WAR

Dreadful gloom,
like a blanket,
sets upon the cold hollow earth as shouts of horror,
cries of morning,
laments for love of country echo in the empty houses.

There are riots, riots, riots in the streets.

Tears whose sting bite at the eyes
as smoke fills the empty spaces.
Dust and blood,
dirt and sweat
send there itching aromas to the nose.

There are riots, riots, riots in the streets.

Silent prayers like haunting memories
lazily drift toward Heaven.
Children cry and parents ache
to stop the fighting that brings God’s tears.

There are riots, riots, riots in the streets.

 PUBLISHED IN FOLIO SPRING 2008 ED.