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Withdrawn from glory by the bombarded shell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
Copyright © Agniva Ghosal | Year Posted 2017
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