They still search
For the bodies
In the rubble
And the dust
The stench of death
It guides them
The cold stone
Bleeds and cuts.
Politics plays
Holding hands
Like children in
The school
But the whistle of
Exploding bombs
Makes mockery
Of fools.
History if
Nothing more
Tells distortion
Of the facts
The statues built
In honour
But not of those
Who sacrificed.