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There she sat
On an old wooden box
Moonlight reflected upon
her exposed watermelon-shaped
Belly housing the fruit of
A struggling womb…
To her right, laying still
On the cold ground,
A skeletal-like
Ebony hued body
Of a barely-breathing child
With tiny sunken marble-ball
Shaped red eyes…
In her arms…a baby doll size
Infant is teased by the nipple
Of a left titty—gone dry—
And the mother’s
Weary eyes
Banking slowly evaporating
Tears too weak to flow:-
Thus, is the canvasing
Of the collateral damage
Inflicted on starving victims
In a war of hunger—
Where there is little hope
Of any liberating aide—
Particularly in cases
Where there is no assurance
Of lucrative capital gain…
Ironically, allied aid to a country
At war has all too often been
Motivated by capital gain
Rather than bringing
Liberty and needs
To its people:-
