Refugee

Beating the midday forlorn sun By foot they begun the journey leaving the pun Beware of the dangers and tactics to shun Between that time and reaching the destination without fun Beholding the situation, carrying the bun Before Palmyra falls, it must be done. Holding hands the long flight ahead set Hephzibah’s children could no longer wait Hoping to cross over to the western gate Homs already destroyed, before it was late Haunted, Alawites , Mershdis, Ismailis, Druze and the remaining Christians met , Holy books discarded, they departed only with eyes wet. Crossing the barren desert under the full moon Comforting light winds of June Caused panic and confusion what across the dune Cared by the crazy loons Crisscrossing the violent goons Carried on by the vision to reach the safe heaven soon. Soon after, their departure from the spot Scary laughter’s heard a lot Scathing matters unfolded as citizens fought Seeming beauty of the ancient city was in shatter by firing shot Scornful images after batter and stench of rot Spoiling images of the Bride of the Desert, we got Where stood the citadel of Bell With citizens treated with equality well Withdrawn from glory by the bombarded shell When the ruins in despair, no connecting rail Weeping in despair, the goddesses in the dell Wizards came over destroying all mail. For those, children of mankind walking dared Forsaken by fate; left to be glared Frightening experiences on the route layered Frozen altitudes, fearful of being shared Fences erupted overnight to stop them flared. Firstly to stop them escaping the situation, barriers were wired. Exhausted already, by the walk Engulfed by shady, barb wires, in the muck Enthusiastically they made ready, their new home by luck Enlisted as refugees, they hide and duck Enchanting their prosperity in prayer halls and later chuck Embalming their identity by the UN serial mark. The more daring ones pranced, the iron barriers they grasped Then climbed over it drained and sprained Trampled on the other side where it rained, Took to the journey again, hounded, grounded, chained and maimed, couldn’t made their hope waned The march continued, until they reach the land’s end The challenge of taking over the rough seas by boat caused doubt The young lives lost and we cried aloud. This lead to Politicians frown asking how many have drowned? They played upon, the number game once again. by agniva ghosal