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Poems - Syria

Syria

by Gary

I mourn for Syria
For the dead children
And the dead father
The rain of bullets
in Damascus
In Homs and Aleppo
In the streets and schools
There is nothing but hell

I mourn for Syria
For the dead babies
The blood bath and the
Wrath of men
Hatred through and through
Instead of the old city gates
And marketplace
There is nothing but hell

I mourn for Syria
For the Azem Palace
The Souks and citadels
For the ancient land
Turned into the stones of battle
Of blood and skin
And bombs, for
There is nothing but hell

The baby that dies
The mother that cries
For the life that was
Now the grief that t'was
As she buries her dead
In the sheer white
With her tears of lead
Weighing her heavy heart

I mourn for Syria
For the antiquity
of ancient lands
That lie in the sands
Marked in red
Across Mount Qassiun
The dead at the foot
There is nothing but hell

I, who mourn for Syria
We are together buried
By the beasts of brutality
And the insanity of war
No longer valleys
Or mere streams
Now waters thick red
There is nothing but hell

I, who mourn