You babble about hope, forgiveness and peace when bodies are piled in ditches, I hear you but have to digress;
I cannot listen but talk what you please.
Of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow I know nothing, I only see lead colored clouds of murder. I listed to soldiers getting drunk on pillage and greed, how they talked about looting, about raping our children.
You talk about love, when only a month into war, the only thing growing is hatred. In the pit of my stomach the venom of vengeance is growing. I crave to see fear in the eyes of my foes, I want them to cry before I lovingly rip the life from their bodies.
You talk about mankind, while what I see with my eyes, speaks nothing of kindness, nor of man.
You say life, but I only hear lies.
Today I could not write about sunshine or hope. I think we have come to a point when hate is boiling in so many hearts. This piece of prose contains this line: “Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow.” – from the poem A Daughter of Eve by Christina Rossetti.
Sanaa hosts Prosery at dVerse.