FALLUJAH
Fallujah - western teardrop of Bagdad,
Flare lights streaming down onto the face of
The land of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
Anointed by holy oil.
Embers of white phosphorous glow
Near a lighted mosque
Where the only voices heard are sounds of
Praying.
Silent screams echo from hostage “slaughterhouses”,
Empty and bereft of prayer.
The beheaded cannot speak.
Body bags delivered before carnage,
Obscene gestures of practicality.
Booby trapped trash cans,
Cannon fire, machine gun bursts
Guarantee they will be filled.
Fallujah - magnet for warriors
Where hunters and prey are one,
Trapped in a maze of blood,
Draining into the spiral of tears.
Videos of slaughter, sold in the marketplace,
Whetting the blood lust, the contagion of anger, the cycle of revenge
Insurgents - sniping, fleeing malignancies,
Spreading like cancer unseen -
Metastasizing, invisible, waiting to strike
Living on to fight another day, another place
In this, the “cradle of civilization”.
The bough threatens to break, the cradle to fall.
Massacres erupt in Boqubah, Haditha, Haqlaniya, Mosul.
Over 1,500 American Forces,
35,000 civilians
Fallen from the tree of life
Onto dry desert sand .
Tigris and Euphrates,
Rivers of ancient lore,
Refreshing desert land,
Flowing on beneath bridges destroyed,
Flowing on after Death’s work is done.
Virginia Atkinson
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