Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash

Those rich metaphors drawn from the sky and sea
Rich funereal language, baptism and burial and birth,
Blossom and harvest, wise ones, Witan’s children.
From the lips of children we learn that clinging
To life is not enough.

Smoke over Mosul. Mosul’s churches where once
The Jacobite heart of Christian belief was celebrated
Amongst the ruins of Nineveh, along the same back paths
And alleys that the Jews took to their synagogue
Which had been there since the Prophet Zoroaster
3500 years ago. 

Today we find Zoroaster’s sons and daughters
Buried all around Mosul. These Ezedi dead are a vestige
Of a different way. On them
Those Salafist-devils sought to satiate their sin.

Trace the infected stream back to its source
This nest of vipers
Of Wahhabism. Saudi Arabia. Ally of America.
Look! You’ll find it there.
These enemies of Voltaire
Contaminate the very air.