He lays in rubble, buried like a corpse;

Crescendos and all, buildings fall dethroned;

Soft feet, wide eyes, big cheeks, besieged by force;

A melody of booms, worlds can explode.

Faint mewls and whimpers, caved in by debris,

No human can see past all the wrecked stone;

Their brazen faces and stomps aim to flee;

Beneath their soles, an alternate war zone.

Dust seeping into each pore, he decays

Not even a sad, shrieking mother left,

On screen I see news drowned by disarray;

The gales that choke and burn met with neglect

“A baby found dead, midst strikes in Kunduz”

Let’s spread his name, his story, his lost tune.