An Iraqi way of life is back from the dead?

Part1

On a bark he stands

Tall, erect, pole in hand

Clothed in black

A scarf around his neck

Head bent, eyes intent

He looks with care

At the marsh below

Watching, waiting

For the water to break

Attentive to the sounds

Careful of the reeds

In the distance

Ghostly in the morning light

Lies a ruin

Of some forgotten past

Buildings crumbling into dust

No doubt a village

Uninhabited, deserted, desolate.

Part 11

Was it yesterday, or years ago?

He forgets

In seasons past, long ago

Tales were told

The marsh’s life was full of hope

Harvests bountiful

In spring and autumn dances held

Children leant the trade

They learnt to hunt

They learnt to fish

Old men watched and smoked

Then one day the waters stopped

The marsh drained and dried

Part 111

Today the waters flow

His boat is sturdy

His hope is high

Can it be true?

Will the fish fly?

Will the marsh live?

Or is it bound to die? David Nutt, March 2005