A mother clutches her child, bloodied, and frozen
Another lies beside her, numb and lifeless
Around them, rubble from wracked shelter
Blown to bits by bunker busting bombs
Unleashed by bloodthirsty purveyors of horror
Their sustenance is, perchance
Nourished by the ghastly sight
Of maimed limbs, skulls, and blood
And the appeal of scattered debris –
The shameless testimony
Of their insatiable penchant for power
And the heartlessness that’s clung to its trappings!
Consumed by their twisted sense of might
That resides in their bombs and guns
A veil of darkness shrouds their eyes
They see not what we see
Nor do they hear the cries
Of the dying and the fleeing
Of Homs without homes
Of a man-made apocalypse
Joshmali's World 