Victims of War

They shuffle along, their heads hung low,
For they are aware they have nowhere to go,
Their homes have all gone, their villages too,
Now just rubble for the eye to view.

They huddle together against the cold,
Driving wind penetrates right to the soul,
Small babies huddled to mother's breasts,
Wrapped within layers of rags that's left.

Old and young they make the trek,
Hoping to find a place to rest,
On and on for hundreds of miles,
Wondering what will come of their lives.

Above the planes fly so low,
The people to the ground they go
Terror grips them, makes them cry,
Thinking they are going to die.

Armies march too and fro,
To their battle on they go
Don't even see the people there,
Surely they must be aware.

An old man stumbles to the ground,
The others they just walk around,
They cannot stop to help this man,
Cause he will only slow them down.

Another plane flies so close,
Dropping bombs that make great holes,
The children cry, the women scream,
But they are just the unseen.

These people are the victims here,
They live in complete and total fear,
For no one seems to see their plight,
While all around the armies fight.

Liz