A refugee's poem

Whoever might be reading this, this is a poem written by a good friend of mine. He wrote this some time ago and then recited it to me many times. He died not long after that. I still remember the poem vividly. I post this in his memory.

Raining

I raise my head to the sky
I see the dark clouds up high
A storm will arrive soon
A shroud on tonight’s bright moon
The sky will split asunder
The opening scenes are lightning and thunder
Rain will fall
Rain will pour
But rain isn’t the only thing that falls from above
Death too comes from above

Death comes from the sky
Death takes the form of missiles
Grey metal eggs which drop from the sky
They explode upon hitting the ground
He that gets hit dies
We that get lucky survive
And the place has become
Pandemonium on earth

I have a large family
All of them I loved dearly
The missiles have killed all of them
Save me who is left as damned
With a left arm burnt to crisp
And a heart shattered beyond belief
I am broken completely
Physically and mentally
Life is of no meaning
Melancholic is now my morphine

Those life and death situations make me think
Of whom the lucky ones truly are
Is it those who have lost their lives
Yet enjoy eternal rest
Or those who survive
Only to continue living under the specter of death and suffering
Will this pain ever end?
Is there respite?

I raise my head to the sky
I see a clear and bright sky
The storm is over
And dawn has broken
Rain has stopped falling
I await the day when the bombs
Will never fall from the sky again

Anonymous