My Country

This place I call home -

My country, and my pride.

Resplendent towers, of 

white once stood.

Now we are washed in

fragmented history,

a fraction of what we have been.

The thud of bombs, 

plundering

these once peaceful streets.

Dead lay buried.

Souls cry out in sleep,

so deep.

Breath taken - with no remorse.

STOP!

We are people!

Our children's dreams,

white washed by the

power crazed.

Our hope is peace.

Just the simple - remnants of PEACE!

Copyright ©2016 Deborah M. Hodgetts