Sandstorm In Iraq Poem by Gert Strydom

The wind is covering everything,
covering with red-brown dust,
burying the present, the past
with a future in which peace
cannot last
and man holds destiny by the throat,
tries to change the present, the future
at a very great cost
and the lost of life is everywhere
with innocent women and children
here and there being shot, killed
by dropping bombs
and US-troops and their allies roll in
with tanks and armoured cars,
fly past in gunships, bombers and fighter jets
in skies red with blood
trying to teach democracy
by the barrel of a gun
and of all of this
the wind doesn’t know
and it continues to blow.