In the brink of dawn

Little Salih was full awake

Calling Mum,

Before to school we go

I need breakfast to eat

For my portion of healthy treat

I want a glass of water

The mother jumped in sweet surrender

And smiled

But no bread no water no power for light were to be found

She asked the father, to see to it

Or bring back what the children want

He hailed cheerfully: by your command

Out he went

Only for the bullets to shed

And Musa in death he fell

Children and family were in distress

And Fatima was off in haste

Time and again bullets were shed in pain

The little ones on the walls were fixed

To the devilish feast that filled the space.. with fear, death and cloudy

ferment

A day…. Two … five and months

Have passed…..yet the besieging grip

Of the city’s tent

Where the father’s body and Fatima

At the door were left

Little Salih still holding out his hand for a piece of bread and some water

To drink a potion of health

After the vicious circle in days, time and forlorn

Heaven wept that the city once

May rise from its debris and fearsome torment

For little Salih may stretch for a fistful of bread and something to drink

But the potion remained in its place so still

In flawless whimper and tears to shed.