There's no one. In the village. Not a human. Nor a stone. There's no one. In the village. Children are gone. And a mother rocks. Herself to sleep. Let it come down. Let her weep. The dead lay in strange shapes. Some stay buried. Others crawl free. Baby didn't make it. Screaming debris. And a mother rocks. Herself to sleep. Let it come down. Let her weep. The dead lay in strange shapes. Limp little dolls. Caked in mud. Small small hands. Found in the road. Their talking about. War aims. What a phrase. Bombs that fall. American made. The new middle east. The rice woman squeaks. The dead lay in strange shapes. Little bodies. Little bodies. Tied head and feet. Wrapped in plastic. Laid out in the street. The new middle east. The rice woman squeaks. The dead lay in strange shapes. Water to wine. Wine to blood. Ahh qana. The miracle. Is love