Thursday, 6 October 2016

The Good Old Days - for some they are gone.

Sometimes I use too many words. 
Sometimes many words are necessary to build up to a poem.
This week - only the poem is required. 

Picture drawn by
a Syrian child treated
by Dr Zaher Sahloul

In Hell

Plaster dust and blood soaked
shapeless rags disguise a tiny frame.
From big brown eyes
two raging rivers flow,  
scouring crazy paving patterns
on her dry, grey cheeks.

She has lost both parents
in this claustrophobic catacomb,
choked with fluorine gas,
as barrel bombs bombard
the streets where the children
of Aleppo used to laugh and play.

Now her shattered body twists
with anguish, grief and pain.
I watch with rivers running
down my face towards the sea,
to run the risk of drowning
rather than to die in hell.
And know that God has sailed away as well.
For the besieged children of East Aleppo. 5th October 2016


Steve Rowland said...

A very powerful poem, Adele.