Syria.. I really really miss you
Sooner or later, we will prevail, against ASSad dictatorship, and against ISIS brutality..
Our children will be free!
My son places his paint box in front of me
and asks me to draw a bird for him.
Into the color gray I dip the brush
and draw a square with locks and bars.
Astonishment fills his eyes:
“… But this is a prison, Father,
Don’t you know, how to draw a bird?”
And I tell him: “Son, forgive me.
I’ve forgotten the shapes of birds.”
My son puts the drawing book in front of me
and asks me to draw a wheatstalk.
I hold the pen
and draw a gun.
My son mocks my ignorance,
“Don’t you know, Father, the difference between a
wheatstalk and a gun?”
I tell him, “Son,
once I used to know the shapes of wheatstalks
the shape of the loaf
the shape of the rose
But in this hardened time
the trees of the forest have joined
the militia men
and the rose wears dull fatigues
In this time of armed wheatstalks
and armed religion
you can’t buy a loaf
without finding a gun inside
you can’t pluck a rose in the field
without its raising its thorns in your face
you can’t buy a book
that doesn’t explode between your fingers.”
My son sits at the edge of my bed
and asks me to recite a poem,
A tear falls from my eyes onto the pillow.
My son licks it up, astonished, saying:
“But this is a tear, father, not a poem!”
And I tell him:
“When you grow up, my son,
and read the diwan of Arabic poetry
you’ll discover that the word and the tear are twins
and the Arabic poem
is no more than a tear wept by writing fingers.”
My son lays down his pens, his crayon box in”
front of me
and asks me to draw a homeland for him.
The brush trembles in my hands
and I sink, weeping.
Let the ASSad criminal thugs crush the revolution tomorrow (God forbids)..
ASSad’s people will have no peace. I cannot tell the fathers and the mothers that revenge is wrong, and ‘haram’…
Even if I did, .. they will not listen.
ASSad destroyed the civil unity of our society, to keep his chair…
But those who sit on a throne of skulls, usually drown in blood!
لا تحتاج أيّ تعليق!
The world is giving immunity to the killer of our children..
While ASSad won’t even give us a chance to bury our martyrs!
Haunting Photos Reveal What Life Is Like For Syria’s Refugees. (10/10)
A Syrian rocket, seen from Turkey.
A long-exposure photograph of a rocket in northern Syria, as seen over the skyline of Kilis, Turkey. Kilis is the last Turkish town on the road to Syria’s embattled city of Aleppo, and is now populated by more displaced Syrians than Turkish locals. Distant explosions frequently echo their way up from Syria into the hills of southern Turkey, and serve as a constant reminder to those who fled the war as to why they cannot return home.
A woman covers her face as she holds her daughter during an air strike by Syrian air force near her house in the Ahad neighborhood of Aleppo. Sam Tarling/AFP/Getty Images
اللهم إنّا نستودِعُكَ سوريا وأهلها .. أمنها وأمانها
ليلها ونهارها .. أرضها وسماءها .. يا ألله
Our problem: is that those who are supposed to solve our problem, ARE our problem!
I am disfigured without recognition, but I will love you forever.. O my dear Syria!