Poppies along a wall, a cistern too, birds dip their wings.
Your key is all that’s left. Once you saw skies alight with birds
but clouds tight with dust scarred the town. Nothing’s left
but stones and broken homes. Beneath dust children lie.
Missiles trained on homes crumbled schools and roads.
Your key is all that’s left, stones and broken homes.
Men and women’s arms’ stretch out for bread.
Alongside shattered roads, faces locked in shock.
lacking bread, eyes too, reflect the loss
emptiness of shock who bury all they’ve known.
Families mark the loss in shrouds and body bags
everyone they’ve known, homeland turned to soot.
Come now, count the bags lying in the village square.
Walk gently over soot, shattered hopes and lives.
All that’s left, a key signals stones and broken homes.
