These words that fall from me
My knees are bent in prayers
Tearful, shaking lips and nostrils
Caution has let hope breed in me
Though these days turn sour
In lands where we once played
But; is hope gone for real?
Media, machines and man
Inseparable pairs of destruction
Seems they kill more
When machines are close by
And when medias tell it wrongly
And when man hates his fellow
How do I tell the stories of thee
In the lands where I once loved?
The future is blasted with hate
A grip on the neck of an innocent infant
On a day it lost its way
Into the tracks of the man-machine
Even the deserts are not so dry now
Blood has smeared itself on the sands
And the light rains has cemented it
The clouds are grey with gloom
And all seems normal the next day
Many remain clutching a dying hand
Many stand waving a lifeless flag.
Oh if I could pull man away
From the grasps of the media
And the intoxicating machines
This poem is written for babies and all children caught in the cross fires of wars they knew nothing about. #Somalia, Pakistan, Gaza, Syria, Iraq.