Salt and Pepper Short Stories and Poems

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  Iraqi Sister

  Susan Sowerby

  Trapped in a war of desolation

  My parched heart craves

  A flower for your grave

  In this land, once ancient Syria

  Where Eagle triumphs over dove

  Where oil is deemed greater than love

  Can a simple flower grow?

  Tiny hand beneath the rubble

  Cold to my clasp,

  Means nothing to those who ordered the blast

  From far away towers of power

  Throughout the ages, little changes

  Rachel weeps; Herod rages

  And the blood of the innocents

  Drips down the pages

  Beneath my bhurka

  I will hide the cradle of life

  A woman’s tender body

  The brutish eyes of war

  Shall not defile

  Hidden, sacred, beauty

  And I will search this wilderness

  This minefield once my home

  If I find one flower

  One flower alone

  I shall have found -

  Hope

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