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Feb 2014
Red rain,

Like suburban sunsets
war has taken hold of Fate,
closed hands in.
Drenched
quenched
killed
red rain pouring down from
lightening grey skies
empty outskirts
of people
walking through
deserted streets
hushling and shuffling inside

a bomb hit the town
the day the red rain came down

people sitting in homes
hiding away in fear
yet some scream
they have no sanctum here
Street children
Are all gone
And little the little ruddy
whose leftover
Is left all alone
with silent cries
afraid men in boots will hear
his empty gafing
into chilled air
he hides in an alley
his knee cut right open
and to the bone

he hides behind a dumpster
in the shelter of the rain
while men in iron clad gear
scuffle past cold metal frameworks
of what used to be a fence
and back out the alley and returning to the streets
where shops sit devastated
or nothing left from where
a building stood
ruins of the castles
that labour built up
now gone to waste
breaking down the empire
a mighty kingdom
Of human sacrifice
hard work
to grind the stone
and put it in it's place
and now gone
by bombs and
cold blooded
******

A woman,
I saw her scream
she held a child in her arms
behind her there were flames
raging like a beast
and open fire arms
guns like whips
shooting quick
she ran for her life
but still they shot her down,
I think,
or the fire got her

I wish I could reach out and help
but I only knew
that in the end
they would have shot two
If I stepped up to my plate,
had I thought for a moment,
death is better fought in a raging battle
then to meekly grow old
and shrivel like a raisin.
No longer shall I stare
gravely at my hands.
if such a situation
should again arise
I'll put my soul in trust
and pray for heavened skies


And still, to this day,
the brittle lies
of my countries ways
tell me these people
are the enemies
but I can't help but to think
that isn't so
I stood solemn while I watched my insides punch at me
scream at my betrayal
tall I stood
with my chest to the air
I tried to stomp back the truth
thinking I could escape the air
by raising my head tall
but if I stopped
my effort
limp it hung.
I could not grasp
what I had done
I did what they told me,
wasn't that correct?
tall I stood
like a statue
The ones they would make for us back home
and I could not help but feel
That any statue
With my face,
no matter the size
could not bring me back what I lost
When I looked into that
womans eyes

the so called enemies
they share the same filth
The same soul and cells that make up matter
with a being of beauty on the inside,
all striving for something greater,
accepting and living life with flaws
going home at the end of a hard worked day
and greeting their love with a warm exhausted smile
and sitting in a lamplit room
on a rocking chair
covered in a knitten blanket
or by a bedside table
poking through words with reading glasses
sipping at their tea
with parched lips
stumbling now and then
to silently thank for
what they have.
Reading to their children,
fulfilling the little ones
curious and eager desires.

It pains to see the universe within them
when their faces
met mine
and I could see the Ocean
and the moon
and all that is divine,
then I saw it melt away
by the twist of grubby hands
from men who had no clue
what world they were living
when once a work hat was put on
walked away
from all
that they knew

and so red rain
Begins to fall
on the shoulders of
us all
It opens the mud
of the ground
and leaks
into the heart

The great and mighty sky
with clouds of coal
And ashen grey
boil together
lost in a swirl
then they too break out
unleashed
released
from all that they held

the red rain
pours down
creating puddles
and dripping like a spoat
carressing
the mother
who too
needs a soak
to wash away
what we left on her earth
and what we did to her people

The red rain
It satisfies our sorrow
it cleanses us of our pain
and helps to wash away,
in the wakes of our betrayal,
what we left lying

but even rain
does not take from me
the sounds of people crying

  the red rain it hits                                            
everyones shoulders                
everyones shoulders        
everyone                  
             every                
  single          
person
including mine.
Dreaming upon memories of war stories,
perhaps it's this city rain
looking through old family
photos again, a bit choppy.
Heather Moon
Written by
Heather Moon  I live On a rock
(I live On a rock)   
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