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.