Gunshots in the Rain.

I think it's pretty nice of America and Britain and France to gang up on Libya and bomb them. NOT. I mean I sort of get where they're coming from - they're trying to destroy the rebel camps and their supplies, but do people not realise that what's really being destroyed are the lives of the Libyan civilians??!?! There's too much violence in the Middle East anyway, and too many innocent people are getting hurt. I can't imagine what it's like to not be able to go outside because of inhumane landmines and bullets flying every which way. Anyway, I'm not even going to pretend I understand politics and warfare (and in my opinion, there's actually nothing to understand in warfare except one word: destruction). But I was strangely inspired a couple of days ago, so I wrote this poem:

It was raining today and mixed in with the rain was ridiculously loud fireworks... I immediately thought of how somewhere in the world, those loud blasts are not fireworks but gunshots.

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Gunshots in the Rain

The blasting of gunshots accompaines the rain

As I bury my head in the pillows again.

My gut churns with the meaning of those thunderous shots,

Along with this nation my courage shrinks and rots.

I'd never considered this matter before:

Not the blood of this nation covering the floor.

Nor the agony of a mother as she cradles a battered son,

Nor the happiness and unity that is so cruelly undone.

Locked up with the heady sent of my fear,

Horrified, I watch all traces of peace disappear

It cowers and gives way to riot and violence

And we mourn that distant, golden memory of silence

We mourn the times when we were strangers to pain,

When the blasting of gunshots did not accompany the rain.

- ZarinNuzhat