Late afternoon, the clouds hang low,
The air still, oppressive.
The streets are, for now, silent,
Those that would rain death from the skies, grounded.
The buildings, shattered and empty,
Testament to greed and stupidity.
Those not dead, have fled,
Leaving only human remnants hiding in cellars.
Broken exinhabitants now live in tents
In foreign lands.
Destitute, but resolute
In their dreams to live in peace.
The so-called great powers,
West, and East,
Feast on the corpses with alacrity,
Their hypocrisy bold
Upon their flags.
While all claim right,
The blight is on the dispossessed.
Let those that pray,
Pray each day
For those left helpless in this land of the damned.
A/N This disastrous war in Syria rages on while those that should know better pick from the corpses. Shame upon humanity.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
