FEISAL OMAR / REUTERS

I think in verse, so it often takes a minute for me to translate something into normal speech. Some things I can’t so I write poetry. The following abomination about an abomination is the result.

Somalia

In her hands skin stretched bone
Wide eyes and forehead
Eyes hungry as stone
Upon a neck too thin
Mouth gapes open 

Nearby a man cries for his world
As gunmen march proud
In fetal positions curled
Those who once objected
Dead or dejected

 The romantic image in a cave
Heroes fighting for all
Is not the rebel enclave
Where all are stolen
Futures once swollen

They fight against all that sings
Fighting for their Allah
Against joys life brings
And here is the cost
All amongst the lost