Iridescent Anticipation By Rania M M Watts

The elements of war,
strife of one
who has suffered
at the hands
of ensconced
destruction.
Tragedy leads
to crimson hues,
there is no human
dignity – it’s released
into a Sarlacc Pit
of injustice,
lack lustre demise,
and sardonic
anguish. 
How do you
think you would
feel in the underbelly
of a metallic screeched
scream?
Eyes close
and squint, while
   Dorothy repeats:
        “there’s no place
 like home.”
Sounds so cliché
to believe hope
exists for anyone
 — this is not a simple
innocuous
concept. 
Bombs going off
over head on a long drive
through Syria to escape civil war.
I don’t understand!
I don’t understand!
I don’t understand!
Why?
Why is annihilation necessary?
There exists illumination
etched in the visibility of air
and auditory of thought.
A guided hand scribes
on word “hope.”
This piece was inspired by Unbroken, by Kevin Zoldan & Bax. 

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