A student exits a library in Damascus,
Book loosely in hand, he walks peacefully home,
All of a sudden, pandemonium and fuss!
He doesn’t know if he’ll see his mum.
Two girls play outside with their dolls,
It is another place, yet the same,
They seem not to care being unprotected without walls,
Yet nobody knows how long will be their game.
“I’ve been ordered to slaughter you all”,
Cries a man with a gun,
The biggest seem to be the first to fall,
The man knows when his job is done.
I with my numbered summers think,
Is it wrong to be right?
I never believed so, but tell me the link,
Which leads the devil to his might?
You know the man with the gun?
The other day I saw him breathe his last,
His eyes seemed to be stun,
He says, “The united were too steadfast!”
The little girl who played by the road,
Put on some gear and got ready,
Not caring if alone, she believes her code,
It’s enough to always keep her steady.
The mother indeed failed to meet her son,
But she knew it was her calling,
She knew it was her time to run,
And she absolutely detested stalling.
I ponder on why this model of clay,
Cannot differentiate between fire and his own kind,
I see the other’s reason, but why self slay,
Those with whom one is to find,
The destination which waits joined hands,
The journey which yearns courage and strength,
Oh Muslims, why destroy own lands?
Come back, please, come back at length!
Learn to fight and cope,
Only you can build the staircase to hope!