Iraq

I nursed him at my breast
When he was small,
And watched him grow into a man,
So handsome and so tall,
My only son,
Filled with the love for life
And youthful zest,
Of all in life I ever knew,
I loved him best.

He died last night
In the deserts of Iraq,
His body torn to shreds by mines,
While politicians, spouting platitudes,
Smoked their cigars and drank their wines.

There are no tears
Left in my eyes to shed,
I'm bitter and alone and old,
My world, my only son is dead.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz