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
Copyright © Oche Ocheme | Year Posted 2016
|