<font color=red>Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan
all devoid Of hope
No love of life, no drink, no dance
To go there is to take a chance
Of capture, torture or far worse
Execution on TV.
Beheaded there for all to see
Young and old are at their mercy
Shackled, broken, made to plea
Confess and betray,
Their own country
Just in order to be free.
What chance have they of the above
From those with hearts devoid of love
For children living in these cauldrons
In the shadow of the crescent
I fear for them, in the present
The future, I cannot bear to see
But, maybe I should fear for us,
In tube, train, plane and even bus…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.