Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 5, 2016

Devil-Dust~by Norman Wilson




There be a bitter devil-dust
On barbwire fence with cloth caught in rust
Where ashes and soot strangled the air
Irrelevant to the tears lost everywhere

Bombs keep falling where angels no longer call
Crumbling clay lie fallen, from incinerating walls
Flesh and bone lay below grievous stone
While wails of mothers rise in chorus of slashing moans

No logic reigns from where death comes
From the black smoke of the devil’s guns
Buried in final rest where flowers cannot grow
Under a hot sun on sand never to know a winter’s snow

There will be no heaven doors for the devil’s hand
He who scorches death across the land
Where mothers wail for bones under grievous stone
For sons and daughters never to come home

The bombs keep falling and death continues-on
There are no babies to listen to children songs
The barbwire fences caught with cloth and rust
while ash drifts away into the skies of soot and dust

All rights reserved 04/29/16
Norman Francis

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