(Think of the night just before our bombers flew over Bhagdad, beginning the first Gulf War)
The desert moon was empty that spring night
when sleepless, I arose, forsook my bed
and stumbled through the streets devoid of light
but from the stars, and then just overhead
I heard a mother singing of her love
while less ethereal flights beyond her range
drew closer, and would resound above,
a song elegiac, and soft, and strange.
I stopped, and listening, was thus beguiled:
"The shadows soon will pass. Allah is nigh.
Its time to close your eyes my darling child.
It's time for me to weep...for you to die."