Mohammad Ahmad
01-19-2017, 07:38 AM
I am injured and the bleeding still in flow
As a source of spring when Spring halts tonight
My bowels, my heart still severe aching
What to say to those of guns and masked faces?
They are about to leave while the matter becomes serious
And our military has to chase them from side to side
They are as if empty bubbles having no weight or size
While rain comes down no longer they smelt as their wagon
Hardly they had knowledge neither had wisdom
Men of no heart and ever had good reputation
Their religion is to kill innocents as well as the freedom
Self-suicidal among children to help their vacant purity
I am injured by their blast of mortar
As many people around their purpose
And my sons carrying me on hand-wagon
No ambulance to see for last point
There a center of first aid about two kilometers
And no ambulance or any vehicle hearing my sound
My pain, my deep grief I put aside
To asking God perhaps angel is ready
Two hours then I am in Erbil on a coucher
Then at Erbil I was cured by some doctors
The American doctor said you should be patient
And we shall do the first surgery in two hours
And you should stay at hospital for two weeks over
Then I returned a half human and half speaker
And my bowels still aching more as if fire
Here I am the poet who never forgets Caesar
That we are all the Caesar's victims one after another
And the time will witness that we are poor people
And by everyone we have to be punished
That's the damn comes by those tyrants
And we pay the due either by souls or money
May the wound heal at a nearest time?
And we have the breath of rest and relief
And our Iraq has to be cured as our aching wounds?
Then we draw away across all ventures
Then the deep wound slowly will be vanished
And we never pick the stick of departure
Methinks the trees of Iraq heard my sound
And at evening the sparrows come without fraud
As a source of spring when Spring halts tonight
My bowels, my heart still severe aching
What to say to those of guns and masked faces?
They are about to leave while the matter becomes serious
And our military has to chase them from side to side
They are as if empty bubbles having no weight or size
While rain comes down no longer they smelt as their wagon
Hardly they had knowledge neither had wisdom
Men of no heart and ever had good reputation
Their religion is to kill innocents as well as the freedom
Self-suicidal among children to help their vacant purity
I am injured by their blast of mortar
As many people around their purpose
And my sons carrying me on hand-wagon
No ambulance to see for last point
There a center of first aid about two kilometers
And no ambulance or any vehicle hearing my sound
My pain, my deep grief I put aside
To asking God perhaps angel is ready
Two hours then I am in Erbil on a coucher
Then at Erbil I was cured by some doctors
The American doctor said you should be patient
And we shall do the first surgery in two hours
And you should stay at hospital for two weeks over
Then I returned a half human and half speaker
And my bowels still aching more as if fire
Here I am the poet who never forgets Caesar
That we are all the Caesar's victims one after another
And the time will witness that we are poor people
And by everyone we have to be punished
That's the damn comes by those tyrants
And we pay the due either by souls or money
May the wound heal at a nearest time?
And we have the breath of rest and relief
And our Iraq has to be cured as our aching wounds?
Then we draw away across all ventures
Then the deep wound slowly will be vanished
And we never pick the stick of departure
Methinks the trees of Iraq heard my sound
And at evening the sparrows come without fraud