Thrown against a thorn bush he lies upon the ground,
grasping the grass with his fist his face is
contorted with agony,
his naked body struggling with the earth is shedding blood,
with every drop that oozes from his wounds they
are being sucked by thirsty earth. He cries out in despair! There is no one to hear him;
His cry echoes, but his voice gradually fades away;
it is dark, desolate and silent. As random thoughts run through his mind
of past love and brotherhood
but then of the future to be met with vengeance. Alas, the severity of the pain numbs his body and mind;
He falls into a deep sleep,
he is neither to be healed nor awakened,
he being the Human Conscience.

by Muhammed Jabbar (jihad)

Other poems of MUHAMMED JABBAR (JIHAD) (2)

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