Thunder,

created by bombs,

MOABs, torpedoes, everything Uncle Sam has in his arsenal,

Lightning,

created by fire,

as homes and gardens go up in flames.

Craters,

appear in the smoking ground,

shuddering and shaking,

threatening to fall apart,

and swallow its inhabitants whole,

Sound of crushed glass,

as barefoot mothers cross the street outside,

searching for missing children.

Wails are heard in a courtyard,

as a young girl mourns for her parents,

the sun is shining here,

it is morning.

life goes on,

somewhere in Europe,

someone's husband is having tea,

somewhere in the Arctic,

a seal is brought down,

somewhere in China,

a farmer goes out to his fields,

while in this little piece of land,

havoc is unleashed,

like Pandora's Box opened again.

Another plane whines overhead,

the dust of another bomb blocking out the sunlight,

blurring it,

turning it into another shape in the sky.

By Yuelin.

Dedicated to all those innocent people in Iraq.

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