Archive for October 21, 2018


a child of war and terror

art by banksy





a child of war and terror.



 


as she lies bleeding,


the girl who skipped, hopped to school,


all of nine and a half years old,


with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was her father’s pride.


 



as she lies bleeding,


shrapnel lodged in her torn stomach,


she stares at her skipping rope,


blood soaking it the colour of cherries her mother buys.


 



as she lies bleeding,


she sees human shapes all around, thick in the black smoke,


blurred visions of scattering feet, 


shoes left behind,

hearing nothing but the pinging in her smashed eardrums.


 



as she lies bleeding,


she slips away and then she is dead,


a mangled heap of a nine and a half year old girl,


whose laugh was her father’s pride.


 


 


as she lies bleeding,


even in death she bleeds some more,


shrapnel wedged in her torn stomach,


stealing the light from her bright innocent eyes.




as she lies bleeding …



in jallianwala bagh in ‘19,

johannesburg in ’93,

leningrad in ‘42,

freetown in ‘98,

soweto in ‘76,

beirut in ‘85,

hanoi in ‘68,


st. bernadino,

manchester,

baghdad,

brussels,

london,

tripoli,

miami,

jenin,

paris,

kabul,

raqqa,

basra,

mosul,

gaza,



aleppo still.


 


as she lies bleeding,


a little nine and a half year old girl,


whose laugh was her parent’s pride,


we know she’ll bleed more,


tomorrow and in many tomorrows yet unborn,


with shrapnel in her stomach,

ripped open and torn.


 

as she lies bleeding,


a child of war and terror.






art from google








from google





These days …




These days, so jarring and so harsh,


leave us contorted, face down in the vicious marsh.



These days, so painful and so hard,


slice into our souls, sliver by jagged shard.



These days, so defeating and full of hurt,


fragment the pieces of our being, our heart dragged through the cold wet dirt.



These days when we feel slammed down and kicked around,


these days when not a glimmer of hope is to be found.



These days, when our very own, splinter our days and nights,


these days when the ones we love the most steal our sunshine and shatter all comforting lights.



These days are cruel, every moment seems like an internal duel,


these days that reek, of a deep pain that allows a torrent of tears to stream down each cheek.



These days when all seems lost,


these days when our heart feels mangled and tossed.



These days must pass,

these days must leave,


as all days do,


slipping and fading through life’s sieve.



So that we may smile once more,


as we smiled so many times before.



So that we feel solace envelope us within the cocoon of peace,


when the pain and the hurt, relents,


so that at long last,


these dark times may finally cease …




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