red drops gleam
catching setting sun's last rays
father, brother scream
blood seeps from her
the setting sun's light warms
our dying mother's face
rockets explode
a butterfly of color
in my father's chest
toddler falls
neighbors fleeing
crush her limbs
eight years old
my back against a stone house wall
I watch neighbors die
bombs threaten children
nation's leader's ladies
gather for lunch and poems
(c) 2003 Linda Lockett Eisele