The Doves Have Flown Poem by Helen Crutchett

The fire burns with white hot fury
streets run with rivers of blood
The doves of peace can find no resting place
In this tormented world as the wolves of war
Howling overhead aim for their targets
Bombs find their mark and slaughter the
Innocent
Their screams piercing the thick poisoned air
As buildings crumble and deep craters appear
There is little left of people except body parts
Scooped hurriedly into plastic bags and makeshift
Coffins
Mothers clasp dead babies to their breasts
Too traumatized to ever cry again
People cower in fear of the brutes of men
Towering
Over them with guns and endure pain, unimaginable
As the butts strike their heads and lay open their skulls
The young men, cut down in their prime lay
Strewn on the killing fields, their eyes showing the pain
Of their last minutes on this Earth
Others are captured to endure the most hellish of
Torture and torment, in deplorable conditions
Oh, this wretched World says the dove

This evil blight on humankind…
This abomination…
This devastation
This greedy world of evil predators
Hell bent on killing humankind
Our sacred planet left obliterated
This man made hell on Earth

The Phoenix Bird is doomed never to rise
From the ashes again
The Doves of Peace fly off, never to return ~