Smell

Smell the smoke of a million fires
In great cities sadly burning
Smell the dust of ancient stones
Crushed after millennia standing
Smell the rotting civilian’s flesh
Killed by foreign bullets firing
Smell the fear from every pore
Of tortured souls close to dying

They merge, they mix, they mingle, they meld,
Until we are left with one single smell

You may ask “What smell would that be?”
It’s the smell of freedom marching…