A mumbling massacre.

I live in a dichotomy of a state;

Belittled by the destruction, left hungry for days-

Disowned by the globe, caught in a blaze

that can’t be submerged

Today I stand in Aleppo-

Anxious, uncouth and isolated from the world.

I open my window to see a sky reeking

Of decaying gunshots-

My favourite garden is now a bastion ravaged

by army footholds and heavy smog.

Ammi still attempts to muffle us from

the unbearable raging of bombs and rifles

Her soothing voice feels like seeing ripples

in a pond of infested, stagnant water.

Plunged in pain,

traversing along the path of tragedy,

Can peace be traded or

will it Assad stand in the way of its happening-

My mind is a battlefield, raging with revolution

Martyred by this war.

A young girl of fourteen, wearing an armour

instead of her favourite

cinnamon dress and shawl.

My house doesn’t echo with the scent

of osmalliyeh and fall and rust anymore-

Curled up in a bed, fed with sour bread,

A hybrid of restlessness and inability lives on.

Resounding laughter choked with

longing for it to become routine-

I look into the mirror

and see a defeated and dissolved reflection

staring right back at me.

My coarse hands find abba’s broken locket

in the holes of my over-sized overcoat

It reminds me of a beating heart

Ripped out from a patriotic chest

Begging to go back home. 

The stairway to our abode is shrouded by

leaves, dust and hard hitting uncertainty

Knowing that I could feel at home

for a single fleeting moment

but suddenly flee at the next opportunity.

Winter is here, but I shiver not because

of the antagonizing cold.

I feel my tireless eyes sink into

an abyss of utopia- where war is

Unknown

Unheard,

Untold of.

A world where I could still play with

Aliyah and Hala if they weren’t at the sea-

On tumbling boats that decide their lives,

A world where I could breathe, and just be. 

Paper planes soaring above my sink

remind me of drones that destroy and belittle

The radio switches from twinkling notes

to bitter chronicles to 

Unending, 

Unadulterated 

Static.

My textbooks painfully stacked,

lying untouched, rendered useless-

For my home away from home was shot down

by missiles that killed a thousand ambitions.

And today I stand in front of you,

The face of a nation marred by disaster;

Begging for either peace or

death to come a little faster.

Breathless, I feel myself lose all control-

Inhale. Regain what’s left of you and build 

Over and

Over and 

Over

Till it hits you-

You are the vengeance

that will spiral this uprising

By reclaiming the regime which is hell bent

On your Death.