As cowardly as it may be, I cannot watch the news anymore because of stories like this. It's simply too much to bear.
Whether you have written a poem in five years or not, your quality and understanding of format is very clear here.
Thank you so much, Ben.
It's not cowardice. I don't watch the news anymore either. This just kept popping in my newsfeed and I couldn't forget the face of that kid and the baby. Such pain they go through.
Thank you for your support. I hope I can get back to writing more regularly soon!
Nema, beautifully written. I too hate watching the news, it depresses me of what we do to each other. Please continue to write, it really helps with trying to understand the craziness in this world. Hugs-
Nema ... I can't bring myself to watch the link either (sorry) but I can imagine the scene because you've described it so well. This is sad and chilling and makes me uncomfortable to read it ... ergo - it's great (albeit shocking) poetry. :-) x
Well said Nema
the ashes of War hurt more than war itself.
I just hope and pray dat the beautiful souls in Syria and Iraq region find happiness & peace once again.
Very strong poem dedicated to the beautiful souls
Hi Nema, my prayers are with the lives lost and with those who are still going through the consequences of it.
War: a drama started by the politicians and how they force innocent people to play a crucial role of survival and death in it. They didn't even left children.
I have no clue why this war started and when, but it's been like 4-5 years and still our Syrian brothers and sisters are going through this traumatic situation. Right now, there is no such assumption when things settle down once again or our Syrian (B and S) would get to breathe in the breeze of love, happiness and peace.
Just like Ben and you, I don't even like watching global news. I mean what's the point in watching such cruel things happening in the same world we all live in and still we can't do anything to prevent it from happening. We feel more helpless and hopeless. Then for the sake of humanity, the best we do is to donate a few dollars, euros, pounds to the charity or do a candle parade.
I salute our Syrian (b and s) who havn't given up and still fighting every day just to survive. It's becoming hard to harder for them to seek for shelter, to breathe in the ashes of their own people.
And about the politicians, well, black has been their favorite color for a long time and it will be and to find it that they want to cover every part of Syria with Grey.
Nema, you have portrayed the precious emotions of our Syrian (b and s) very well.
In your poem you didn't put a period at the end, but I really want a period to this massacre, devastation going on in a beautiful country Syria, once and for all.
A tribute to ashen faces beneath rubble. A broken glass of blood. Everything burns in this poem, hurts and burns again. Sometimes I ask myself what are words worth of when the only device capable of change now is terror? Maybe the mere act of reminding found in poetry is valuable and capable of a slow-paced change, too? The author trains a gun on the face of neglect, perhaps we are reminded that some spots in the world refract but black rainbows. I saw the picture which triggered this gem. Devastating to say the least. A train of ugly thoughts even crossed my mind then. Is the will to live and survive this overwhelming? Why live? And what for? To keep on breathing chaos?! The irony!