“Wars do not determine who is right, only who is left.”
This is our tribute to them in the hope that something will change.
She peeked through her window, she could see,
Bodies and buildings the bombs hit, their debris.
Like a ghost town, gray, haunted by silence,
Nothing but just that, spread across the horizon.
They have forgotten to cry, there.
Kids have stopped crying, the vision still unclear.
How can one weep in a wounded time,
To lose everything amidst this heartless crime.
Yes, we should be concerned.
Because this is not about politics, this isn’t about religion.
This is about human life, people like you and I,
Meandering here and there, helplessly, waiting to die.
“This is probably the last time you’ll hear from me.”
They said, as they recorded themselves for the world to see.
“All we wanted was peace.”
My heart cries as I wonder what I am doing to make this cease?
Little kids search for their families in suspicion,
“Exhausted beyond words by a life beyond description.”
Just like the other 2.3 million who are losing trust,
As their entire world is being reduced to rubble and dust.
You remember the face of that Syrian boy who sat on a chair?
Bloodied, expressionless, his reality a nightmare.
You faceless, you face away.
Wake up, do something, don’t let humanity decay.
“If the Syrian children were to bleed oil, the World would rush to rescue.”
What a sad reality we live in, would you let this statement stress you?
We live in a world where “fertilized eggs are seen as people and refugee kids aren’t”,
How did humanity get here, so devastated, blistered and burnt?
For us, it may have been just a city in Syria,
For the people of Aleppo, it was their whole world, their zone, their area.
They leave with tears in their eyes and hope in their hearts,
Not wholly, for they leave behind their dead parts.
We watch, we listen to every video, every statement relentlessly,
We cry, we react, we share everything endlessly.
How will that help, I ask myself and everyone reading this,
When will we get up and take real time action towards helping this?
My tears won’t stop but what have they got anything to do with this?
If I don’t do anything for someone who has lost their everything into the dark abyss?
You, who haven’t lost a loved one, must not talk.
Talk like it is okay. Please, stop! You haven’t walked the walk.
This battlefield, their home, covered with foul smoke, gravely.
Smells of the blood and tears of the ones who fought bravely.
No words, spoken or written, can heal the wounds or the sufferings of many,
The weak relief merely offers worthless sorrow, if any.
If you think this isn’t an emergency, what is?
Originally published on scoopwhoop.com.