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Sarah Shehata Poem
Twas’ a war full of foul language,
Whether it be said aloud or kept hidden in the minds,
In the minds of politicians, soldiers, and citizens.
The language,
Is directed towards the flight of democracy,
And the descent of communism,
Now we may blindlessly go along with the current trajectory,
But today I do not conform,
For today I lift my voice aloud,
In the pursuit to end the needless bloodshed.
To let the President execute,
His own agenda,
Is like letting a man with a checkers background,
Dictate the strategies of a chess match.
As a soldier I leave my loved ones.
I am forced to fight people who have never harmed me.
I don’t wish to,
I don’t ask to,
I am forced to by those who are higher above.
Ignorance has no place neither here nor there,
For that is a statement all men,
Whether they speak foul or nah can agree upon.
How many
lives need be forgotten before the toll to pay is too high?
How much
destruction must ensue in Vietnam before the ignorance may be revealed?
The endless bombardment
of artillery must flutter through our nightmares before we realize.
We stand united in the thought,
That sending men,
Sending them to spread our ideals,
Will make others “better”,
But we fail to acknowledge the inhumanity of the actions.
Man may never remove itself from the cycle of destruction,
But there is still hope,
For the morality of the silent,
Whether they be the majority or nay,
Will ALWAYS overcome the austerity of the situation.
May we fly above the cruelty of mankind,
And into the nest of peace and unity,
And Fly away from the Evils of the Vietnam War.
Copyright © Sarah Shehata | Year Posted 2016
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Sarah Shehata Poem
The remnants of once laid footsteps oppressed my memory, Everywhere I traveled I would see memories of people that were once there, Disappear.
The memories were alluring, agonizing, and amusing,
The kind of moments that you never forget,
No matter how old you get.
I began to wonder as to how many people have walked in that same exact spot before,
But then my imagination would start to run amok,
All the history that occurred on a small scrap of land,
All that piece of land has witnessed and how many memories it holds.
I began to lose focus on my own life,
Everything I did seemed to lack purpose,
I tried, I tried, I really did,
But it was if I was powerless against these memories.
Staring out of a window of a moving vehicle you begin to notice patterns,
The schedules of different people that play out every day,
And I start to wonder if the ground knows us better than we do ourselves.
Soon I began to realize that as humans,
We can never understand the full extent of the world as well as the ground we place our feet on,
And the footsteps we once laid.
Copyright © Sarah Shehata | Year Posted 2016
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Sarah Shehata Poem
The lively mainland quietly fights the lonely shore,
Courage, faith, and endurance.
The rough mast quietly gets pulled into the sun,
The dead lad loudly commanding the mast.
Why does the breeze die?
Sailing calmly on a misty mid afternoon.
Rough captains quietly attempt to navigate,
Seas grow with when more lads plunge to their death,
The men try not to think about the men lost at sea.
They listen for commands,
And pray to go home,
They fight to get to shore.
Copyright © Sarah Shehata | Year Posted 2016
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Sarah Shehata Poem
The Leaves fell,
The Ghost rose up,
As if to slip into the Forest,
They were stuck in utter Darkness.
No one had come for Them,
As far as they had known.
The tears falling like autumn leaves,
Suddenly seemed so far.
For in this Darkness,
There was nothing to see.
No rain, sleet, or snow,
No wind about to blow,
No leaves about to fall,
No lightning about to crash.
Inside this dark was nothing,
But yet everything known.
Copyright © Sarah Shehata | Year Posted 2016
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