by Alex Oliver

Created on: August 27, 2009

Iraqi Aftermath

She was only six! The woman cried
Cradling her daughter as she died
The soldier blank could not compose
As up to her feet the woman rose

I spit on you and all your kin
What is this hell you have us in?
Is this freedom? Is this why you fight?
How many more children, die tonight?

Mam I know your angry and it breaks my heart
This is not my War, this is just my part
After the bombings I come to collate
Success of the mission, or mistakes that we make

She points to the little lifeless pile
There's your mistake, one dead child
One more tomorrow, maybe two or three
If that is your freedom, don't liberate me

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