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The Aftermath
© Christine Hazel Yalung
8-Beetle, Batch 2005

An afternoon of rhythm, rhythm and song

Feb 19, 2003

 In the beginning,
I watched them march off to war.
Looking heroic,
Thinking they’ll be fighting
For a just cause.
Tens of thousands
Sacrificial lambs once more
The streets are battlefields
And blood spills once more

They were given a license to kill
As they slaughtered even the children
As they slaughtered even the women
In the guise of helping another land
They interfered with the other’s sovereignty
Disrupting the whole world
No more the concept
Of a peaceful body of nations

To them, war is just a power play
A display of their true prowess
To the nations of the world
A seeming shadow play
And they are enjoying most of the show
Audience and actors,
Not realizing it is with fire they play
And fire knows no master
Everything and everyone in its path
Gets burned

And now the consequences… 

(To the children)
Their faces are filled with agony
As they hang on their dear lives
What happened to the future,
The future that they have been bragging about?
There! There is the future!
Sprawled against the cold ground
Bathed in their own blood
Missing a leg or an arm
Barely breathing…

Where was the fierce heartbeat
And determination to live
That pumped their veins and arteries? 

Only the wailing
Of the moments who lost their sons
Along with the sound
Of the cold metal
That broke the silence of the night
As it literally tore their hearts open
Because of a foolish leader
When he gambled with their future

(To the families)
Their faces were filled with grief and sorrow
Eyes bloodshot with tears running down their cheeks
There is no revenge in their hearts
Only agony, the pain of losing loved ones
Only regret, because everything is senseless
Others had to suffer too
Because they saw no reason
To inflict the same torture to others

Where are those shadows now?
I see them no more
Has anybody put out the sun?
But alas, no more illuminations
The darkened skies filled with smoke
As the dying embers of the fire
Consumes everything along its path
And in the end where shall we wash our hands
Which stained blood?
Nowhere… but in the enemy’s blood…

“No blood for oil” – take a stand, let your voice be heard!

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