Against all odds
We grow
Impossible situations
Test our patience
This too shall pass
A catch phrase
Difficult to believe in
Witnessing bombs
Charcoal babies’ bodies
Unrecognizable to none but
God.
Fed by the purest source
We grow
A legion of
Faithful, discreet servants
Of the one
God
Who sees us, even
When we are unrecognizable.
Burnt, dead bodies
Murdered by
White phosphorous bombs,
This too shall pass;
A catch phrase
Insulting victims’
Shaking from the last
Bombed relative…
Blood still fresh on walls;
Dismembered by
‘The most moral army in the world.’
“A blight unto all nations!”
Martyrs’ cry out from their
Graves, warning the living
Who are busy
Texting each other
Chit-chat clutter
Cobwebs of emptiness
Oblivious to the martyrs’
Warning.
