The beating of drums, signals the start of war.
Rythymic chantings of heroes, fill the skies from afar.
History retold of past stories, in graphics for a movie.
War understood only through screen play.
Till war strikes home.
To be awaken to the screams of neighbors;
Dripping in cold sweat - the prelude to a nightmare.
Who? What? Rebels?
Night of mass exodus in waves of bundle laden people;
The common image of war.
In the dead of the night, sounds of scuffling;
Cries of children lost - calling out, "Mama!"
Their cries drowned by Pow - pow - pow;
Gunshots ricochet amidst the crowd.
Tonight we are not alone;
Rebels walk with us.
Guns concealed in carried mattresses.
Who is who?
In this senseless non understanding begining.
Then the stampede;
Scrambling for safety;
Abandoning vehicles;
Hiding in backyards;
The weak crushed amidst...