Thursday, May 20, 2010

When The Wind Broke It's Wings

When the wind broke its wings
In the silent night
Tears bounced in whirling dust of broken flight
Another wave of hungry blood rushing,
Determined to kill;
Chasing the breath of the fleeing
War stands still.

A father carved his son's name
With his home made grenade
On stones burning with flame.
As long as pride is uplifted,
On the barracks and fences
Fame is what matters most:
Not the son's anguish
Nor brotherhood lost.

Under the roof of life Ashes embers in silence,
While one leafless wife,
Swims in burning red moment.
If she could swallow herself In a second or two,
Will history repeats itself?
 Would his brother kill his son too?

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