Poem By Hanna Anaz

  A Note to a Stranger

I know we've never met and that we never will,

but I hope this note reaches you and finds you well.

You see, I often dream about the land you’re from.

It’s a part of me that is unknown and has passed on.

It’s not the same place now that my grandparents knew.

Where they lived all those years ago and then withdrew.

They withdrew from the tyrant that everyone feared.

He took the country by brute force and that way steered.

Now that tyrant has gone, he was hanged in the square.

But another evil has come to cause despair.

No-one is stopping them, much blood has been spilled.

I really hope my dear friend that you won’t be killed.

Iraq was not my home, nor will it ever be.

But I feel saddened when I see its misery.

I wish I could show you the country I live in.

Tyrants go underground, and rise from within.

Our country's not perfect, we did invade yours.

For that I am sorry, for our tyrants cause.

I know we've never met and that we never will,

but I hope this note reaches you and finds you well.

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H K Avery - poet at allpoetry