Throbs of Fiery Despair - by Tisha

In memory of Ishmael Abbas

Each sunset brought the dread of disaster,
of fear, of terror, raining from the sky.
The drone of aircraft, hurtling missiles
over city, citizens and innocents!

But why?
For Freedom? For Liberty? 
For a better life?
or for richness; for greed and for strife?
Blinding light, deafening blast,
excruciating pain as missile strikes
obliterating all family and future life.
Burning fire, blinding horror;
the stench of bodies turning coal
imprinted in his soul forever.

Sickening silence;

no father, nor brother,
just mother´s pregnant body

pulverised into oblivion;
shrieks of girlish terror,

mixed with Ali´s shout:
"Please Mommy, don´t leave me now!
I´ll pick you up; I´ll comfort you,
But alas!

My arms are gone!"

Fluid brown, almond eyes,

bewildered and suffering
unmentionable agony,

implore:
"Oh God! Is this Freedom?"

Alas Ali:

"Freedom´s just another word
when there´s nothing left to lose!"



The poem was published in London and New York 
in a Poetry Anthology called: 
"Theater of the mind" 
Author´s Note:

Twelve-year-old Ali´s horrific plight, after his family home was pulverized by a massive USA missile attack on Bagdade, 
left him armless and severely burned, 
traumatized for life, 
has seared my soul and made me cry out 
in utter helplessness at the futility and gross injustice!
His imploring brown almond eyes; 
terrified and in absolute agony, 
have become the symbol of ALL the innocents 
maimed and killed in that illegal war in Iraq.

To Ali´s five-month pregnant mother, 
on whose lap the terrified child was seeking shelter, 
his father, brothers and sisters, 
and thousands of other ANONYMOUS VICTIMS, 
my deepest respects! 
REST IN PEACE!!