Militants Bred in American-Israeli Cauldron

Militants Bred in American-Israeli Cauldron

Fragile
Egg shell blue
On the wall
In a bullet-pocked room
That houses death
A patchwork of families
Lie in state
Decomposing
Multicolored blankets
Serve as shrouds
The makeshift morgue
An impromptu setting
For the freshly dead
Muted voices
Sing a martyr’s song
Wailing on the wind
Americans
Made militant
Boil over with rage
Set their sights
Through gun barrels
At the ever-shifting
Enemy
Arab Muslims
Islam’s pride
By world powers
Scorned and muzzled
Gunned down
At close range
Shrouded
No longer breathe
Endearments
Fathers, mothers
Sisters, brothers
Lie side by side
Made to die
To pay for Western
Folly Western foes
Want their blood
Their booty
And their land
Bring them woe
And a pretence
A show
At Democracy
An ancient people
Suffocate slowly
In shifting sands
Of memory
They know their ancestral
Place
And Name
The riddles and rhymes
Heritage passageways
Unlike the newcomer
Israel-America
Oppressor-stained
Lost in Time
Pretending to be
Somebody
Civilization’s cradle
Iraq, Iran, Syria
Egypt
Lebanon
Jordon
Palestine
They know their fate
As the Powers that Kill
Are at their gate
Suicide bombers
Blast them
Shredded and worn
Somalia fights on and on
Afghanistan
Is up for grabs
As the carnage
Builds
Into our own nest
It spills
Homeland Security
Is a test of Wills
At war

ENDS