‘Baghdad, 2006’-by Mohammad Hannan

The little boy now without his hands
Has paid the price of his free lands.
The siblings are riding
Over the same coffin
For a reach to the last and peaceful

Smokes settled in the streets of
Like the lazy winter in your street.
Someone somewhere once told
“In order to save the village,
We destroyed it”.

Outside of this dark terrain
In some distant heavens
Flowers are thrown at you,
A buzz ripping your ear:
“Support the Troops!”, A silent music playing
“Sweet Home Alabama..”, in an old crap Chevy
Burning silently some gas,
Burning the dews from the desert
The tears, and the blood of it.


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