one of the Orient’s oldest
and most beautiful important cities
inhabited for thousands of years
by generations after generations
of craftsmen, merchants, artists, dynasties,
famous architects of all styles and religions,
the western end of the old silk road
home to over 2 million citizens
until not long ago

a few weeks of modern warfare
were enough to destroy
what hundreds of generations had built
for their living as well as their sense of beauty

     rockets exploded churches, temples, and mosques
     artillery pulverized ancient palaces and new houses

     barrel bombs and poison gas
     killed the people

on tv we now see acres of urban wasteland
miles of rubble with no life
except for occasional tanks and soldiers
proclaiming victory over these ruins
in the name of a dictator whose regime
has become a puppet in global power games
no matter what the cost in lives or things

     to destroy is easy
     building things up is hard work

     with friends like these
     who needs enemies

A simple man is what I am
I went to no university
Or college of theology
And no doubt that's why I'm confused

It occurs to me, when we see
Leaders and generals of all countries and creeds
Celebrate their victories with smiling pride
Shouldn't they be weeping with shame
For all the innocents who've died?

They all believe that their god is on their side
And quite often, the same god at that
All down the ages, our venerable sages
Have killed, tortured and oppressed each other
In the name of the wishes of god

Now I'm just an ignorant sinner
So can someone please explain
What kind of god do these people believe in
That needs the destruction of his own creations
And all in his holy name?

                                                          ­­  By Phil Roberts

I sit observing all those strangers scurrying from events occurring during the day. Still stuck in place, I guard this space securing the most unsecured spots. In a daze I look away to see nature ruling the distant landscape.
Trees with no leaves only spindly fingers form wooden web like structures, competing for space with their sisters and brothers who sport full bodied broccoli colors. White cumulus clouds streak across a turquoise sky racing other grayer layered stratus and cirrus vapors. I long to follow, flying as fast or faster than those amorphous beauties.

My pupils contract coming back quickly so I can focus on where my attention is supposed to be. However, my mind wanders and my eyes follow. Weird humming wires bisect the skies. Gone for a moment, I force myself to return.

I hear next to nothing. My sight affirms said silence. Closer than my cloudy kin a flattop building mimics blacktop shapes and colors. Cars clutter the cigarette strewn parking surface. The gravely parking lot cracks like a fault line leaving little fractures where thin green plants perk their heads up and out, sprouting from the concrete covered earth.

Near day’s end I find my focus again. Strange reflections wobble in dark windows as employees drive in to replace their almost friends. The shift ends and I follow strangers out. The herd thins as we diverge on different streets taking our own roads home. Nature follows me back to the hotel sweet, then to sleep, and finally into my dreams.