O the nights of lightening bursts
Over the skies of Baghdad fade
But the percussion sounds still
Rattle the streets- the shelf life
For ordinary folks smudged out
With an eraser. Water runs
Or not, the only consistent power
Has no switch for control.
Life And death seem so closely tied;
A knot that one moment can be
Pulled too tight and snaps.
People strain to remember who
Asked for liberation, their mind draws
Blank, the birth pain of democracy
All the more unbearable when some
Resist the contractions and want
Only to abort and are willing to take
Vengeance upon their own to squelch
The unwanted. Still, mercenaries
Prosecute a bold faced lie to the world
With the levy of working men and women
At home who have no choice, while others
Are sacrificial lambs for the sake of
A dignified way out of one man's perjury.
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