Outside, there's too much noise
and little room for hope.
Streets smell of dust and distrust,
and the last Jasmine in mom's garden
hasn't stopped bleeding since dawn.
On the TV, a guy in a suit and tie
says that oxygen won't be free anymore.
Soon, it will be sold for a few pounds,
and on each Wednesday, the price will soar.
Suddenly mom shouts from the kitchen,
her throat is sore, "Shut him off!".
But the guy is not just on the screen.
He is everywhere. In every fighter jet,
on every barrel thrown.
You can see him in widowed eyes,
atop bone piles, above mass tombstones.
No man, no God, can shut him off.
"Why Aleppo, mom? Why us?"
I ask her later at bedtime, and she replies,
"The ice of hearts won't melt
unless some people burn to death."
She bites her lips and looks outside.
Outside. Where there are too much prayers
and no room for hope.
Those first two lines caught my attention and held it. I tried to imagine just an iota of what it must be like to live in a war zone. These two lines are perfect. Simplistic yet very real, a real sense of hopelessness. As a piece of poetry it is raw, but it works. There is tension, there is drama and there is anguish. It is also very current and extremely topical. I love it when poetry is relevant, a 21st century poem in every sense. Great write and an easy pick this week for 10 points.