F- For my people

F- For my people

Syria_Sunset_0615

The ground trembles
As one, after another
Drops in succession,
While the night is enveloped
By darkness,
And the residents,
Deluded-
By a false sense of security
Because-
Night is for sleep.
The ground trembles,
And many do not awaken.

Many do not awaken-
The sky turns hazy,
It’s smoky, choky
The kids are crawling,
Crawling towards an escape
There is no escape-
The ground is trembling,
The atmosphere hazy,
Death is overtaking,
While the world is asleep.

In line with my blogging friends Jade (an elegy for them) and Maria (emc2) who have each written a beautiful tribute to the people of Syria who have been victims of a cowardly chemical attack. I consider the people of Syria as my family. My sisters and brothers. And we as writers will keep on writing about their plight and the atrocities against them until the day peace resides once again and we won’t have to.

The beautiful Syrian sunset above was taken by Debra Ellis 

Day 13: I wish I could

Day 13: I wish I could

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I Wish there was more I could do,
Than merely,
Put words in writing,
echoing the same thing,
over and over,
Let the children be children
In a land,
where the river’s turned red,
And the cries, of our young ones
Pierce, the atmosphere-
Pleading for mercy.

And I wish,
my voice held the strength
To impact,
every person with the power
To make, a difference
And bring, the bloodbath
To an end.

And I wish, My heart was
as wide
As the ocean, to absorb
Your pain, so you won’t
Have to carry, this grief
On your own.

How I wish,
There was more I could do,
Than put words in writing.


prompt: I wish I could (for December Poetry Challenge). So far, this prompt was the most uninspiring one yet for me. My heart goes out to the victims of the current crisis going on in Aleppo (Syria). 

The above image is courtesy of if.LovedThispic.com

For Them-

For Them-

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For the kids with stone as their weapon,
The sky as their roof;
Bloodshed a daily occurrence,
Freedom to live besieged;
For the kids whose tears fall unnoticed,
Voices hoarse from cries;
Struck from every angle,
Their innocence dimming.

For the mother who buries lifeless bodies,
Of children she’s outliving;
One whose milk has dried from hunger,
While her newborn is weeping;
For the ones who dread the sun at daybreak,
For the onslaught it brings forth;
I say, is it worth it fighting-
The ones with stone as their weapon.

photo credit: taken by Peter Biro/ IRC