Paint the windows black,
Turn the light off,
Hide your head in the sand,
And maybe tomorrow will come.
Pack the house with supplies,
Is there gas in the car?
Are the children all right?
Will tomorrow ever come?
Has my neighbor's house got bombed?
Are the roads all wrecked and broken?
Is that fire in the horizon?
Or the sun, just turning down.
Is the sky tearing up inside?
Thundering, roaring in rage and fury,
Is the rain falling for the heavens?
Or just bullets, drizzling down.
When has quiet turn to screaming?
Did the birds of peace take flight?
War has started while we're sleeping,
And tomorrow might never come.
***
© Sherine Meshad, 17 July 2006
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