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Fields Of Stone....
there were feilds of carnations here once
pink, orange, gold buds
bobbing prettily in the cool breeze
there were birds of vibrant hues
chirping songs of sweet lithe melodies..
now, there are no carnation heads
just grey jagged unnamed stones
no birds, no songs, just laments
and distant booms of terror and bombs
no hand left to lovingly carve
names or epitaphs upon dead stone
no names even conceived yet
for those birthed to be doomed
no seperate graves to mourne those
who breathed longer than their wombs
O Humanity there is no way to grieve
befitting a holocaust this cruel
O Murderers of the human soul
at least these martyrs
in the earth are cloaked
You i fear the earth too will scorn...
No room be for your carcasses repose! ! ! !
poem
by
Wardha Jawdat
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