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The sun rises in Fallujah As we bed down for the night, Cat purring, dog snoring, Horses stabled up tight. My mind wanders and wonders, Far from the book in my lap. There’s a tear in the fabric Of our social compact.
But, all’s well on the Farm, Made safe by their Fate. *** Young Yusuf is most happy, And smiles with pride Watching his father Strap a bomb to his side. “The virgins are waiting,” Papa says with a smile, But it won’t be Papa Walking that last mile
On the road to Fallujah Where the young Marine waits.
*** The Corporal watches the workers, The young and the old, As some Iraqi boy’s mother, Gives him a scold. They come from the houses, The huts and the tents, Some setting up stands While comes the one who was sent.
Young Yusuf walks to forever Carrying his father’s hate.
*** I read my book about history As my wife closes her eyes, Our toes touching softly, Under warm covers and sighs.
The Corporal watches Yusuf And suddenly he knows - All time now stands still As the boy-bomb explodes.
His last thought is home, Where his family now waits.
*** My wife shudders in her sleep And mutters, ‘what was that?’ I pat her shoulder, and say, ‘it must’ve been the cat,’
As demons and dragons Pose as virgins in hell, Awaiting Yusuf’s father – Only time will tell.
And angels watch, weeping They come, too late.
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