The Battle of Nafari

Everything I love
Turned to dust
As fine as spider’s silk,
falling in slow motion
harsh grit
against brazen skin
the sound is deafening
cutting through the sky
pain roars
in a thousand cries.
Outrage in the hearts that are left
watching the ash
a tightening of the chest.
Crushing them under foot
everyone who remains
lying dead on the ground
tell us what is left?
As dawn approaches
streaks break hope in the darkness
and in shining eyes it fades
once more
the hope of home
a peaceful kingdom
is no more.

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