Caught beneath cement and rubble,
Dead bodies lie in the streets,
People don’t you see me?
Blood covered…. with no shoes upon my feet.
Picked up by giant iron horses,
Buried in massive graves of earth,
Clinging to another dead soul,
Umbilical cord... death now our birth.
Do you not see the real me?
I was a son, a daughter, mother of child,
Now I lay unnamed decaying,
In some kind of funeral pile.
“Come oh my God! ” I cry out to thee, ”
If just to chase away these pesky flies,
Let those who pass my now lifeless body,
Not just be another who passes by.
Give me some dignity I would have placed on you,
Kneel… and at least say a pray or two for me,
For I would have done this for you my friend,
Now please…. I pray you do this once for me.
By: Linda Winchell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dark, gruesome, and dramatic.