Don’t say I am cold Mother.
I built the schools that fell on the children
I removed the cataracts from grandma’s eyes
Who saw the bodies
After hearing the cries
Die in the cold
So I wonder
That capacity for conversion
Of one hundred thousand living
Is not reversed when earth cracks
To convert the dead
Hoping a stone fell on Osama
And carrying prayers.
The recovery teams, well dressed
Helicopters fantastic, fresh
From chasing nightmares
Now in the world
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