THE ECLIPSE AT DAWN IN UZBEKISTAN

THE ECLIPSE AT DAWN IN UZBEKISTAN

Many waters have passed under the bridge
And I nearly fell off the edge.

I would have fallen into the murky waters
The murky waters of the overflowing rivers.
The overflowing rivers of blood
And I would have drowned in the flood.
In the crimson flood of the tear shed
The tear shed flowing over the bloodshed.
Flowing from Iraq to Afghanistan
And from Afghanistan to Pakistan
And from Pakistan to Uzbekistan.
And yet they were still haunted by the ghouls of Satan.
The echoes of the wailing women
Bemoaning the doom of the last omen.
The women of Uzbekistan covered in sackclothes
Like mushrooms trampled on the grass.

Things were looking up as I continued to hope
But, I was looking down.
I can no longer walk on this tight rope.
There is an eclipse of the sun at dawn.
For how can I see the sunrise?
When I grope in the shadows of the eclipse?

I have borne pains beyond pretence
And I have embraced realities beyond romance.
Grappling with the realities of our elusive existence.