The Midway Trees Poem by Akhtar Jawad

The clouds that rise from the east
and the clouds that rise from the west
are in love with each other for many centuries,
we wait for their hug, flying kiss to a kiss,
their rains are a bliss,
we want to grow,
rivers want to flow,
fields want the crops,
flowers need dew drops,
the embryo still in a womb,
the womb afraid of becoming a tomb,
wants milk in his mother's soft breasts,
and the bird's young ones want the safe nests,
we are the midway trees,
and those who sit
beneath our soothing and pleasing shades,
were hopeful of greenery but now it fades,
we are now afraid of radioactive clouds,
see with tears, dead bodies made of coal,
was it our love's romantic goal!
Naked bodies without the shrouds,
helpless bodies who can neither kiss nor hug,
waiting for the funeral prayers,
waiting for a shelter of grave,
and the naked dance of the slayers,
singing a victory song claiming that they are brave.
Yes, you are brave you succeeded in raging a nuclear war.
Yes, we were cowards we could not stop it!
Let the cowards meet their logical fate
if in rising they are too late.