Wings spread out, the sun in its face, a scavenger set out hunting,
Looking for anything it could find to satisfy its hunger;
Down below a little boy lay, barely alive, hardly breathing,
His battered face turned towards the lifeless body of his father.
The ground around him once dusty and dry,
Now wet with the blood of this innocent child…
Death hovered over him, lingering, waiting, watching;
Time slowed down, the child blinked – and then never opened his eyes.
A hundred flies quenched their thirst, the blood now pooled beside them.
The vulture circled overhead, now joined by his friends,
The table was set, their lunch was served,
For the little boy and his father it was a gruesome end!
Victims of a war, not that among nations…
Rather a war of the human spirit, twisted by false ideals
Humans killing humans in the name of religion;
Blinded by hate, fuelled by intolerance, humanity’s dark side revealed.
The vultures and flies enjoy their fill,
While we whisper a prayer for those lost souls;