Through my eyes
Through my fears
I could only see one colour
The colour of death
Crimson
Turning left
Turning right
Mum trying to cover my eyes
Too late
I've seen it all
Bodies
Laying out in the street
In their own pool of blood
Everywhere
I grasp my mothers arm
Tears gushing down my cheeks
Can't keep up with mum
She wants to get away
In the sky
Bombs explode
Planes target those outside
Millions of guns firing at once
Who is the good?
Who is the evil?
Nobody knows
Both sides
Thirsty for blood
One for protection
The other for innocent lives
We keep running
To save our lives
Where is the End?
Nobody knows
But Him alone
This is but a fraction of my experience as a 6 year old going through the terrors of the Iraqi war (Saddam Hussian). This image has been implanted in my heart and mind, lurking in my consciousness. It was a time when my mother and I were fleeing my grandfathers house, it being in the middle of the two fighting sides. We were out on the street at that time, running to my uncles house nearby. When we got there, two massive bombs dropped to the sides of his house, one to the left and one to the right. The whole house shook. That was the scene describes in my little poem.
So what happened to me? Well it's a long story, maybe one day I'll write it here. At the age of 7, my mum, older sister and I left for Australia, where my dad had finalised all our visas and documents, and now....well now I'm 18 years old and living through the terrors of year 12.
Hope you enjoyed this piece.
Feel free to let me know what you think
