My brother in Yemen is emaciated,
Cholera’s iron gripped, green hand choking;
Famine and fuming fanatics,
While his sister just wants a meal,
Fresh bottled spring water;
Bring meds for the babies,
The light of life slowly flickering out,
Glazing stares of innocence robbed
Of child play, school room lessons
To love one’s neighbor, and the Golden rule.
Soft, sullen eyes, sunk in sockets; struggling now to find a loving face, a kind embrace, a mother’s face to drink one last kiss because your aid never made it through.
- Gary Edward Geraci