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Too Late MAG
Blood stains the pretty snow angels.
Exploding, the shells
tear fragileparchment babies
alone in the snow, a shoe remains
a grim reminder
InSarajevo
Wandering in weary silence
Vacantly she stares
searchingfor a child
she prays for mercy
and curses those who watched insilence
a mother
In Sarajevo
A deathly grey pall hangs over thecity
where even the sky weeps,
In Sarajevo
Mingling rivulets sweepthe streets
swirling water, dirty red
Cleansing stones of bits offlesh
The rain beats down
In Sarajevo
Too late she cries with bittereyes
softly singing her baby to sleep
on her knees in the rain
InSarajevo
The sun has set.
There will be no dawn
for thechildren
eternal Night
In Sarajevo.
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