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


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