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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/874759-Sands-Of-Ill
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by Nada Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Experience · #874759
A piece written in contemplation of the war in Iraq.
Please, will you take my hand?
I’ll lead you across the sand,
I’m sure you won’t find it bland.

Through the veil of a word
now muffled heard,
It’s the sound of Kurds.

Thousands poisoned by gasses,
where the time no longer passes
for those dead men and lasses.

There was no time for cries.
Only time for lies
From an evil regime’s blind eyes.

The world should hear
The children’s laughter so dear.
But it's silenced now, choked in fear.

So go ahead and laugh aloud,
let soldiers dig among the crowd,
just don’t forget their heads are bowed.

The tears were gone and now return,
with each shovel lifted, a little urn
filled with bones of the chemically burned.

No weapons of mass destruction?
Then explain this past sick function,
where innocence was at the junction.

Where good met evil one more time
to take the lives of just one kind,
and it became the world’s to find.

Again.


© Copyright 2004 Nada (frasier at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/874759-Sands-Of-Ill