to the people of the world!

3 Comments

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  • Sadness
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  • Religion
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  • Childhood
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  • Alone

    to the people of the world!
    This is the story that must be told
    Of an Iraqi baby, not very old
    Lying in her crib one star-lit night
    How could she know of those planes in flight?
    She lay there quietly touching her nose
    Watching her mobile, wiggling her toes
    Oohing and cooing, so sweetly is she
    Talking to someone, who could it be?
    An angel is standing with her in the room
    The baby is smiling, unaware of her doom
    The crib starts to shake and the mobile goes round
    And suddenly comes a most deafening sound
    The ceiling drops in, in a second or two ...
    On top of her crib so she ceases to coo ...
    No one knows how long she lay there
    Who thought about it? doesn't anyone care?
    Is she alive? is she dead? Is she in any pain?
    Now that you mention it, who knows her name?
    Her name is Amal. In English we say Hope
    Crushed between the rubble
    Her tiny fingers start to grope
    "Where is my mummy? I love her so dear
    Come, get me mummy! It's dark in here!
    I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my feet
    There's blood in my mouth! Give me something to eat!
    Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother?
    It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?!
    How long have I been here? Is this just a dream?
    I open my mouth, but can't even scream
    That angel appears once again to my side,
    This time with a tear I plead, 'Why have I died?'
    Am I alone in my sufferings? No, there are many others
    In our grief and our misery, we are sisters and brothers
    Who are we? I ask you... for what crime did we die?
    They're throwing a party! Doesn't anyone cry?!
    Is it True? Am I nothing?! How could it be?
    Don't they also have babies, just like me?
    'It is war', they say, of which death is part
    How blind they've become, how hardened of heart
    Did someone say 'hero'? To whom do they speak?
    A victory claimed for killing the weak?!
    Why are they happy? Why are they proud?
    Don't they know that I'm cold in my burial shroud?!
    No war has been won; no ifs, buts, or maybes,
    They've only killed us innocent, helpless babies."

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    fathi1943 commented on to the people of the world!

    07-28-2009

    Very true, sincere, imaginative and moving. I wish this poem is recited in the United Nations and the Security Council for those hard hearts that are spreading terror of the state and justifying it by laws and resolutions. May be war criminals who engineered world misery from the "Black House" before and after Sept.11 can be brought to tribunal of War Crimes. I lack the words of giving your poetic art in this poem enough praise.
    Reply to Comment

    cmlestrade commented on to the people of the world!

    07-23-2009

    So sad and true. This broke my heart, the imagery was crystal clear. I always think when will we stop when there is no one or nothing left to fight? Keep speaking for the innocent, maybe we will all learn something.
    Reply to Comment

    peacefulbird7 commented on to the people of the world!

    07-15-2009

    very real and deep to the conscious mind. peacefulbird7
    Reply to Comment

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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