Weeping Webbed World: Apropos of a Syrian Nightmare
Weeping Webbed World
(Apropos of a Syrian Nightmare)
Affronts to humanity streak the skies
Like once perched war eagles
Soaring over communities of prey
Where the lingering smell of death
Is as normal as the scent flowers once had.
A grieving webbed world in abject apathy
Awaits the cesarean births of hope and peace—
Hope and peace laboring on the delivery table of life.
Will they too, become miscarriage siblings?
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