From an Iraqi Village (poem by me)

My words were like stillborn children,
My cries for help—all impotent,
Like lambs led to the slaughter,
I’m the only one left.

So hungry I felt like an animal
lusting after human flesh,
So thirsty I drank
my own vile sweat.

I grew immune to the smell
of slow-rotting flesh,
Stopped averting my eyes
when they sliced off their necks.
My lungs still have breath,
But my soul’s ironed flat.

*This poem was written to increase awareness of human suffering in Iraq and inspire prayer for its citizens.

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