A son of David pitched against a midget Goliath

but one who has such might behind him.

The ogre claiming he has come for a deliverance

(he was a man of cunning from his youth).

The other fighting in the simple name of freedom,

full well knowing the effect of The fetid Bear's breath

forever felt on their necks during decades past,

his razor-sharp claws ready to subdue, imprison and kill.

 

Their country smashed, trashed and devastated,

skeleton hospitals, broken bridges and derelict schools,

gaping voids once home to loving families.

A bloodsoaked teddy-bear, corpses clutching bags

with the pathetic needs for hopeful flight, a cyclist as rigid as his bike.

The once elegant manicured hand now rotting in dark mud.

Children blinded by glass shards, or full of shrapnel,

black-bagged bodies, raped, tortured, shot and homes plundered.

 

Blond adolescents shamefacedly blubbing they didn't know,

they hadn't been told, they had been tricked into leaving.

Some expecting flowers and smiles of welcome,

now  asking for a mobile to tell family they're still alive.

 

How long can they last out, and will the outcome have been worth it?

What have they left to return to, if able to do so?

A shove from above perhaps deserved?

A similar determination and courage merits a recompense.