Iraq, 21 September 2004

Spirits watch
above the charnel grounds,
filmy multitudes in somber homage
to sobbing life
waiting the final blow
and peace.

Dark shadows dance in dervish glee
as brutality
chants in sing-song gutturals
its condemnation.
Death.

The voice drifts on, interminable,
mumbling incantations
to an idol
flesh fed,
blood drunk,
hell born.

The voice pauses, stops,
oppressive minutes pass
before the knife, raised, falls
and dark peace, begged for,
enshrouds now
the sacrificial lamb.