Not Fade Away
We see them on our screens running
from an enemy, unseen and cunning.
They are mostly soaked in dust and blood
with children, or some remains. What should
be children but are less, no more.
We see the greyness of a town’s destruction,
steel punctured, concrete shelled constructions.
There are plastic pots and colourful clothes
amongst the stones and rubble which propose
a normality that resided here before.
We hear them squeal at loss and death.
Their hands flail, they gasp for a breath
of air to inhale against the annihilation
of life. We imagine their situation
and fail. We can’t imagine pain that sore.
We see the doctors, green clad and tired.
Holding babies, consoling parents mired
in the turmoil of bereavement.
They work on amid all, an achievement
shared on each and every floor.
We hear the leaders explain their actions.
‘It’s the fault of warring factions
upon whom we must deliver fire
and wind. So that they may not aspire
to equality, they shall remain poor.’
We must not believe all that’s said
by those who’d reconstitute the dead
as some noble cause; as some thin facade
for genocide. Policies of men made mad
who listen to the truth no more.
Soon enough the next war will end
and calmed by desire to see all mend
we’ll turn away. Our attentions shift
to other issues, leaving those unseen to sift
through what horrors lie in store.