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Disaster on the HorizonPersis M. Karim
for the people of Iran
It begins with words—
daggers of men
who bleed their nations
of hope, kill any
promise.
Here is war:
a bag full of hate,
threats blanketed in heat—
posturing, angry
Man-Rhetoric
unleashing
disaster on the horizon.
War has no face.
At first, it sounds like a bell
striking midnight,
but like the genie
it doesn’t go back in the bottle.
It is endless, this storm.
You cannot call this back:
this witchery gives nothing.
It is a tornado that sucks up
life, spits out
ashes and broken minds
I can feel in my bones.
Near as anyone whose face
I see, whose eyes I hold
tight, fixed on the compass,
I see this, this war coming,
breaking loose
in these mouths.
They are monsters
who cannot see
the people who will weep.
They are creators
of a destruction
that begins on the tongue
and ends in the cold
eyes of tomorrow.
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