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.