A Crimson Letter From Aleppo

From the dusty street of Homs I write Head buried in ashes- white Hopes piled up in monumental rubble hearts engulfed in catastrophic trouble A motherless child cries in the still My home, a deserted paradise Where birds wail for broken dreams Once tranquil land now soaked in crimson rain Poured by thoughtless hearts Who is a friend; the government or rebels? From the murky street of Aleppo I write Where soothing sun now mocks us Our argent moon cast on threshold languid All brimful days in subliminal gleam Hushed seraglios Clash of angry missiles in superiority contest Raped our quiet thoughts There is nothing civil about this war In Damascus I long to see my youth again To dalliance daughters of kings And not dread IS To behold the jasmine teeth In maiden splendor As they collapsed into gale of laughter I a dashing cavalier Aah! th’s idyll satire Cloned in myopic metaphors Tart humour Unending dirge in incessant flow O Kobane Where once triumph ancestral glory Chiseled on eternal marble Golden swords in silken sheath Crested birds clasped their wings in tributes Now ruined in the theatre of political toga To negotiate the soul of a forlorn nation Our cry, our plea To the dead ear of him that rule Last night I a scion of royalty This languid dawn a refugee on the street of unknown land carried on the waves of desperate time Where I beg permission to live A life