Once pruned plants shaded God’s sculptured garden,
Burbling water flowed through a channel
Sang simple songs in my earthly Eden.
Then came blasting bombs of the infidel
Shredding walls, raining bricks. My poor village
Sliced and diced, hewn by loud shrieking shrapnel
Which disregards collateral damage
For noble causes: pious, mighty claims
Of peaceful harmony, a dawning age
Ushered in. Standing before my door of shame
I’m centered by a camera lens driven
To subvert order with a balanced frame.
Gods of chaos make no hell or heaven.
What is possible we must imagine.
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