He was running,
Running from the bombs,
Running from his dreaded fate.

He looked left and right,
It wasn't a pretty sight.

Little down the road,
He sees an innocent little girl.
Half naked,
Heartbroken,
Wailing on her dead mothers’ body.

Those incandescent blue eyes, raining with tears
Those plump cheeks, absolutely bloodshot
The soft curls of her hair, veiled under thick dust
Hid the chocolate colour and turned it ashen

Mahmud observed her plea for help,
And jogged to where she was sobbing.
He enclosed her in his arms, like a mother would hold her child
Then searched for an unhurt place.

Everywhere Mahmud looked was massacred,
Buildings destroyed,
Dead bodies decomposing at every step,
And blood spilt on every corner of the streets.

He cast his anxious gaze upon the north road,
Where settled the group of Iraqi army men.

He thanked God almighty and accelerated up the street,
Mahmud just gave them the girl,
But a missile was closing into them, fired by the Yanks.

Screams flooding the area,
People ducking behind damaged cars,
Little children crying with their arms aloft,
Men, women and children scattering into their broken homes.

Mahmud groping for shelter,
Seeking for shelter,
But behind him came a gun shot.
The bullet soared its way through the air,
Through Mahmuds’ spine, ripped his throat and finally drilled into the girls’ brain.

A roar of help projected out of him,
A cry of immense pain ripped out of her,
But no one was round,
Except the brilliant white Light from God
And the angels waiting at the Gates of Heaven.