Those rich metaphors drawn from the sky and sea

Rich funeral language, baptism and burial and birth,

Blossom and harvest, wise ones, witan’s children.

From the lips of children we must learn that clinging

To life is not enough.

Smoke over Mosul. Mosul’s churches where once

The Jacobite heart of Christian belief was celebrated

Amongst the ruins of Nineveh along the same back paths

And alleys that the Jews took to their synagogue

Which had been there since the Prophet Zoroaster

3500 years ago. Today Zoroaster’s sons and daughters

Are buried all around Mosul. These Yezedi dead are a vestige

Of a different way. On them

Those Salafist-devils sought to satiate their sin.

Trace the infected stream back to its source

This nest of vipers

Of Wahhabism. Saudi Arabia. Look! You’ll find it there.

These enemies of Voltaire

Contaminate the very air.