I am a Bird of Prey

I am a bird of prey.
I will be in Urm Al Kubra.
Tonight the sky is clear.
The wind comes from the North West.
All the way from the fig tree grove.
I will fly to Urm Al Kubra.
Where the air and the land is dry.
The bees fly with me.
Their legs are yellow with pollen grains.
Three-thousand six-hundred meters above the ground.
All the way from the fig tree grove.
I can see you.
I am the eye in the sky.
I am a bird of prey.
I drive weapons to their targets.
My heart is in the hands of two men.
My wings are in the sky.
My feet are on the ground.
But I know who you are.
I have been watching you for weeks.
I have been listening to your conversations.
I know where you are hiding.
I will drive bullets to your face.
But you will never see them coming.
I will burn your bones in the streets.
And when the wind comes from the North West.
You and your dust will fly.
You will settle on the heads of your children.
Your voice will haunt them in the night.

Assalam alaykum. I am one and I am many. I am nothing and everything. Like sand in the desert. Let me carry you across the sea. Where our enemies reside, their fingers pulling the strings of iron birds. Their eyes looking through the iron masks. They will be as we have become. The desert will come to them.

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Computer-spoken poetry. I wrote this poem first from the point of view of a Predator Drone. Second, from the point of view of a dead man from Aleppo.