They Die In The Streets And In Their Homes

The politicians huff and they puff.
But in Libya they just die – the women and the men and the children and the babies. The soldiers and the civilians.
The shells and the bullets and the bombs make no distinction.
They die in the streets and in their homes.
They are being robbed of their loved ones, of their futures, of their lives.
The mindless cruelty of war.

Libya doesn’t really feel like a war when Cameron and Sarkozy and Obama are preening and pouting and saying that Gaddafi must go.
Libya feels like some bloodless political campaign by middle-aged men in suits and ties who all hope to get re-elected.

Libya is a place where the posturing of politicians has absolutely no meaning.
Where UN resolutions mean less than zero.
Where the only reality is the living hell that is all around, and where horror is the very air they breathe.
This is a war of vicious attrition, where every inch of rubble is paid for in spilt blood and smashed bones and wasted lives.