These are not my monuments
not my home
they are not my people
not my children
I laugh in derision
when people express their
unity with a people in war
torn and destroyed,
raped and maimed,
eating ripped guts
and shrapnel for breakfast
their teeth breaking at the metal.
A sea of bodies to choose from
fathers looking for their daughters
sons for their mothers
wives for their husbands
words for their poets.
This place used to be a beautiful country once
of great citadels and wondrous ruins
civilization of a great people
proud people, now broken
tattered and abandoned in our prayers
i can’t stand with these people
for I don’t know how to
I don’t understand what it means
to lose your home, your heritage
your country, your beloved
and fight for survival in a foreign land
carrying your dead child
in your arms
unable to find a coffin to bury him in.
Great poem of realism!
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Thank you!
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