Worn raging out of horror’s make,
’twill leave but sorrows in its wake.
A maelstrom cursed with loathsome might,
a vengeance bent on crushing light.
From calm into the dark frontier
where breaks the heavy wracks of fear.
It yearns for death to all who born,
a cloud of steel and hailing scorn.
The wroth weighed rains to serve and sate
the fuming tongues of thunderous hate.
As black as pitch, a storm obscene,
lay terror on each hope and dream.
Thereinto naught, oblivion;
benumbed, be-damned, be woe, be gone.
Beyond repair, but ashes left;
beleaguered, beaten, burnt, bereft.
From breast an infant seared to coke,
of bodies tempered up in smoke.
A world made mad, the wrath of men.
Of Gaza now, do onto them.