Three years and three bodies
Three years of war and bloodshed
Three bodies were wrapped in blankets
They were in the back of a pickup truck
The face of one child was facing the sky
The other child spread his arm to reach his sister
And the third lay on his side
A man put his hands on the side of the truck
Covering his face with his hands
Was he crying or asking Him why were the children killed
No voices were heard
Men lost their voices and so did the womenA few miles away
The water of a swimming pool is clear like the Iraqi sky
Long palms trees are surrounding the pool
American soldiers are laying on lounge chairs
Resting from their long days
Applying suntan lotion on their skin
Drinking their beer and smoking
Wearing dark sun glasses
Some are swimming and splashing water at each other
Men and women are acting like they are on vacationThe deceased bodies will stay on the truck for days
No water to wash the dead bodies
No electricity to keep them in the morgue
Roads are blocked
Soldiers are pointing their guns on civilians
Tanks are in the streets
Curfews and raids on cities
Who would care about corpses?
People are expecting death each minute
The corpses and the people are alikeThe voice of a child can be heard
I am a victim of their atrocities
I am a victim of their greed and arrogance
They are here to kill
They are here to torture and rape
They are here to divide
They are here to control
They are here to steal the oil
They are here to destroy the country
They are here to stay foreverA cell phone rings
The voice of another child can be heard
I miss you daddy,
When will you be home?
© Copyright 2004 by AxisofLogic.com
Nesreen Melek is an Iraqi woman, a mother and poet, who lives in Canada. It is very easy for us to become caught up in our busy-ness, working to end a war in a land we have never seen. Nesreen brings us back to the realities of why we protest, organize, write and publish. When we begin thinking of war as some sort of drama being acted out in a land we have never been, Nesreen reminds us of the children, mothers and fathers. She reminds us of the terrible details of what war means ... the lost child trying to find a familiar face, the shocked mother, staggering aimlessly down a cratered street ... the father, staring in disbelief at the body of his child in the back of a pickup truck. Nesreen Melek can be reached at: n_melek@hotmail.com
More poems by Nesreen Melek
To The Father in Fallujah Who Buried His Son in His Garden
To The Father in Fallujah Who Buried His Son in His Garden
To My American Friend, With Love