Set fire to the earth, make molten rocks blaze,
bring forth the ravaging winds and torrents
Of rain, let the twisters lacerate, rend
the world in deadly destruction and raze
the buildings to the ground . Let all men gaze
upon this savage loss, make madness bend
their minds, claw their eyes and tear their hair, send
them to despair. This is the end of days.
The world should share the pain that’s made day night,
that’s lit a fire of grief that sears his soul
and blackens all the colours in his sight.
Let all the world beware, his father lied,
took oath, and made his spirit black as coal,
He said he’d live, but now his father’s died.
© Rachel North
Tom Daley's father Rob dies after five-year battle with cancer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel is a Nurse, who has a passion for writing creatively. She is a featured poet at Poetry24.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Violation
Today is Dario and Malik’s birthday, my twin boys.
I visited their graves. At least I can do that, lay flowers.
Their father, Rahil, was never found. On his birthday
I visit their graves. A part of him lies there.
Had they lived, my boys would be thirty today.
I would have seen them grow into manhood,
Get jobs, meet girls, dance, sing, get married.
I would be a grandmother now, fussing over my grandchildren.
I would breathe in their baby-smell,
Watch them grow, go to the school Dario and Malik attended,
Have fun in a playground filled with other children.
There are fewer schools now, fewer children, a dearth of males.
Ratko Mladic and your cohorts, look what you’ve robbed us of.
When you decided to massacre in cold blood the men and boys
Of Srebrenica, you left us bereft of our bloodlines,
No male to seed our women, give them the gift of motherhood.
After your butchery, the only babies born
Were the offspring of rape, their crazed mothers
Still screaming in their nightmares.
I saw you once, Mladic, a swashbuckling khaki-clad army chief.
It was early summer 1995. By July of that year you had slain my men,
Exterminated the Muslim male population of Srebrenica and beyond.
Now I see your photo as they prepare to take you to The Hague
To be tried as a war-criminal. The swagger is gone. You look frail.
But you lived to be 69, a gift, a right, you denied my boys, my man.
You may be sentenced to prison but it will be a far cry
From the sentence you imposed on the women of Srebrenica
When you slaughtered our men and boys and raped our women,
A desecration so vile as to be incomprehensible,
A violation we still live with, our hearts shaved raw.
© Patricia Mahon
Serbia extradites Ratko Mladic to The Hague
-------------------------------------------------------
Patricia has been published in Ireland and Spain. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from UCD. She is also a Healing Therapist practicing in Ireland and Spain.
I visited their graves. At least I can do that, lay flowers.
Their father, Rahil, was never found. On his birthday
I visit their graves. A part of him lies there.
Had they lived, my boys would be thirty today.
I would have seen them grow into manhood,
Get jobs, meet girls, dance, sing, get married.
I would be a grandmother now, fussing over my grandchildren.
I would breathe in their baby-smell,
Watch them grow, go to the school Dario and Malik attended,
Have fun in a playground filled with other children.
There are fewer schools now, fewer children, a dearth of males.
Ratko Mladic and your cohorts, look what you’ve robbed us of.
When you decided to massacre in cold blood the men and boys
Of Srebrenica, you left us bereft of our bloodlines,
No male to seed our women, give them the gift of motherhood.
After your butchery, the only babies born
Were the offspring of rape, their crazed mothers
Still screaming in their nightmares.
I saw you once, Mladic, a swashbuckling khaki-clad army chief.
It was early summer 1995. By July of that year you had slain my men,
Exterminated the Muslim male population of Srebrenica and beyond.
Now I see your photo as they prepare to take you to The Hague
To be tried as a war-criminal. The swagger is gone. You look frail.
But you lived to be 69, a gift, a right, you denied my boys, my man.
You may be sentenced to prison but it will be a far cry
From the sentence you imposed on the women of Srebrenica
When you slaughtered our men and boys and raped our women,
A desecration so vile as to be incomprehensible,
A violation we still live with, our hearts shaved raw.
© Patricia Mahon
Serbia extradites Ratko Mladic to The Hague
-------------------------------------------------------
Patricia has been published in Ireland and Spain. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from UCD. She is also a Healing Therapist practicing in Ireland and Spain.
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