sometimes i wake in fear to the sound of anguished cries to the bleating of war drums and the rumble and thud of bombs
i awake already sobbing our tears, all running together, tiny rivulets in the mud until they reach that place where fires, debris and strongly held opinions stand stoically like the hoover dam a counter-insurgency against the natural course of our suffering
the resounding roar of empire mangy hawks across the way shrieking where a brittle statue of a dull and angry man rears it's ugly head each morning
sometimes i wake to this abhorrent cacaphony and then i feel powerless
everyone is saying that they are waging these wars for freedom while all our lives and dreams are crushed every moment
will someone ask that man on the tv with strong opinions and facts about people he's never met if he, in his infinite wisdom, knows how many more bombs it will take until the seething violence of humanity cracks open the forlorn and solemn soul of the earth?
Inspired from reading "I am Malala", "Cracking India", and years of witnessing violence and bloodshed from afar and close to home.