from a misty hillside shines a lonely widow's
light
a faint glow from a mended oil lamp
looking over a devastated countryside
  in her hand the lamp and a clump of black charcoal
now all she has except her old father
   and the scene like an island plucked from the sea
and set right into world war three,
          the faint light leads her and her father
and the lamp and chunk of coal and their hope
   to their rustic home, where necessities are luxury.
Once when, they walked many miles to visit a mosque
  the bombings halted and the clouds parted for one second,
and the sunshine clearly shone them kneeling and peace was heard.