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Half of a setting sun by Saddam Ninhor

Half of a rising sun,

Never to become full bloom,

Bits of a great dream,

Now whisper darkness and gloom.

 

Half of a rising sun,

A land of peace and joy,

Where slave and master dine,

And nature’s wealth enjoy.

 

Half of a rising sun,

The end to all strife,

Where will not be,

Butchered with a knife.

 

Half of a rising sun,

A clarion call to brothers,

Come home, all ye!

And embrace tear-eyed mothers.

 

Half of a rising sun,

Could have been something more,

Until it can no longer be,

What happened, a sad tale to know.

 

Half of a rising sun,

The end of beloved sons,

Who with faith and courage,

Stood, fist fighting a sandstorm.

 

Half of a rising sun,

As sheep to the slaughter,

The best of us where led,

In droves to be conquered.

 

Half of a rising sun,

That never shone like the moon,

And for all it’s good intentions,

Was on the wrong side of the gun.

 

Half of a rising sun,

A symbol once of strength and unity,

Now is just where,

Predators seek opportunity.

 

Half of a rising sun,

A facade or truth?

And the other half,

Will it forever stay mute?

 

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