The Wild Geese...

Their cry may be heard at eventide.
Under the heavy oppression of their wings
anguish mingles with faith,
and hope turns to wildness
as they challenge the fury of the dark.
I do not know
from where they came,
nor their mysterious, distant destination.
But I know their grief:
they bear a burden beyond their means,
recognise journey's end
in journey's pain,
and turn a clumsy softness
into an arrow of obedience and violence.

Like the Syrian war...