Back from Iraq

I do not know too much about that crazy war
Or what those old crazy people are fighting for
But I know that some of the soldiers are back
Glad to be free of a crazy place called Iraq

I do not know why Iraq did not want men to free it
But I know what is beautiful when I see it
A mother’s eyes freed from the sorrow,
Of the dangers of her tomorrow

When I search for beauty, I just look where I please
I have not seen more beauty than eyes such as these
Her sorrow will sleep, while she is awake in her joy
Of being reunited with the man she calls her boy

A poet tries to capture beauty with words
As if they could capture the song of the birds
Of course it is impossible but the poet tries
To say with words what can be said better with the eyes

A mother’s eyes has more power than the kings of Babylon
They communicate a language of love all may build upon
I know the mother will forgive me for stealing such a beautiful sight
I think she knows a poet needs beauty as the darkness needs the light

If an Arabian poet like Kahlil Gibran could not, why do I babel on?
As if he or I could do what the soldiers were sent to do while they were gone
To free the people from the terrible lies for which they are dying
I know my words won’t change a thing, but that does not stop me from trying

They cannot see, or chose not to see, the truth in a mother’s eyes
That we do not need a ‘Tower of Babel,’ for us to reach the skies