Sarin in Idlib

If ever you wonder: “who?”
look for the children in Mosul.
Whose shattered bodies,
broken bones and hearts
fill the ash coveted streets.

If ever you hear the lies.
The lies of politicians- full of
pride. Preaching peace upon the deserts.
The deserts of what once was.
The shattered temples and mosques,
homes and lives of all of them-
the people we destroy.

In the name of progress.

If you were to ask yourself: “what?”
“What are the weapons of the war?”
hear the dull drill of a drone overhead.
Eclipsing the desert sun.
Blocking light but bringing bright fire
upon those we say we help.

When you wonder why: “so loud?”
“So loud are the wails for what?”
Go see the blood stained tents
which stand in Kurdistan. See all.
See all the bodies, grossly twisted-
twisted from the fire and bombs.

Go smell the poisoness of Idlib province.
And tell me this war is one of soldiers-
brave soldiers with guns in forts.
And not children, crawling on all fours
towards the corpse of their dead mother.
Smothered in sarin gas.

While away in our safe haven-
of our homes on familiar shore.
Stained with blood of refugees
(Who we deemed ‘safe’ as they drowned)
look out to that child’s eyes
full of tears and voiceless horror.

Tell them the war is false
the news is fake
and that the we should focus on “our own”

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