I hear cries
Of children
Screaming in agony
I hear wails of mothers
Mourning
I see the land flow with red
The sky goes drip drip
Non stop
My heart breaks
Where do we go from here?
—
Smell of burning fills the place
Running in the bush
The tears blind my eyes
Thorns and thistles
Tear at me
So I run
Desperately I run.
“Run to safety
Run my child
The anarch have come upon us”
—
I held my breast in hand
My aching breast
Cease not to weep
My eyes keep bleeding
Bleeding for the things we lost
The joy stolen
But it all began
When we were kissed
The betrayer
In our midst.
© Deborah Glover, 2016
Image credit; Shuttershock.com
Lovely blog :’) looking forward to a follow back and your comments on my posts
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Thanks for following. I’ll check your blog out and if I like what I read I’ll definitely follow you. Welcome aboard.
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Thanks a lot. Love, India. 😊
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I always wonder how you poets manage to write such amazing pieces
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Oh.My.God! Someone calls me a poet! Alright, I’m over reacting. I don’t think of myself as a poet. The words flow from within and there’s an agony I feel when I don’t write them. I feel like my head will burst. They are borne from experiences. Thanks for the compliment.
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Always happy to make other happy 😃
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I felt this!
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This is very deep, Deb.😢😢😢 It’s an amazing piece
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Thanks Deb. I had my country in mind. Let him who reads understand… *smiles*
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I had that feeling too👌
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You rythm flows beautifully nicely posed. Come see what my blog brings😇
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such a sad truth. 😦 😦 😦
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