By: Sheila Henry

I see the destruction
Flashing flames on the TV screen
It’s 2003 a time marked in history
A fiery storm rains on a city—Bagdad
Buildings aflamed that make a fiery grave
No discretion implementing
A war based on lies
Human lives sacrificed and
Young men maimed in their bravery
For what?

Desert mother
I hear your cries in the night
Tears flow from your eyes turning into crystal beads
As they fall at your feet
Prayer beads roll on your numb fingers
Quivering lips voice
Prayerful sounds for sons of the desert
Fighting to fulfill an unknown prophecy
Brave hearts fighting in valor to defend their rights
Strong warriors
Who will die with their shoes on for a cause
They know not of.

The rest of the world sleeps as your heart is torn.
Tomorrow the thunderous roar of bombs will cease, and
A new peace will dawn when morning comes.
Desert mother
Then its time to dry your tears and mourn
And the mothers of a land far away
Where eagles fly
They too will mourn along with you
For they too have sons
Who have fallen for a cause
They know not of.

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Sheila’s writing style can best be categorized as Visual Poetry, blending emotion and vision into a poem or story of color. Her poems and short stories are featured at Spillwords Publications, Literary Yard, Sweety Cat Press Anthology, I, The Writer, and Youtube Poetica2 series, cafelitmagazine.uk , Imspired Magazine and Clarendon House Publications Anthology Poetica 2 and 3.