The Shattered Town Poem by Gert Strydom

While on military patrol
I saw a broken town, bombed, rocketed,
shot to ruins,

with the few white walls
that was still standing
full of pock marks

where bullets slammed
the remains of where houses once were
lurching, shattered with a few
rusting corrugated plates

and the place was totally deserted
as if ghost are living there
with stark trees standing stripped stark naked,

when suddenly some people appeared
from shelters further to the back
with big white smiles in their black faces.