Visiting Aleppo


'the sun's fireball sizzling in the sky,
burning away what's left of the old citadel,
wind is choking and takes my breath away,
dust gently covering blood-soaked spaces,
not one tiny bird is calling, not one tiny bell,
but worms clean skulls with no hiding places,
iconoclasts take museums last remains,
yellow dogs gnawing white than whiter bones,
who bothers what's this suffering city's spell,
rather searching for last non-dried out well,
for a window watching last walled-in homes,
oh rich Aleppo, with Hethiters of 1000 years,
oh poor Aleppo, eyes pierced by many spears,
by humans torching children's hospital refuge,
burnt October 2016 as torch of final doom,
taking away their lives in Celan's fuge of death,
when fleeing down to cellar's crowded room,
cluster bombs forever take away their breath,
old market's shanties sizzling in a sky-high blaze,
barbars cultured killings: just their normal waste,
turning history to dust, cult of sins without relent,
sukul-medina: to all who knew her an eternal light,
a star of tolerance, a belief ion universal human right,
now fading away in grace, its pulse and heart-beat,
beauty as your heart-felt beacon just like your plight,
as memory, as picture with eyes of your latest child,
sweet is your air like chlorine from red jerry cans,
a deadly stealth in lungs with sundowning rays of light,
heats-up your heart hidden in protective night,
wiping off all tears that no longer freely flow,
in search for slightest flicker of life that starts to grow,
in millions piece of rubble with just one sign of hope,
one drop in one 3000 years old majestic viaduct,
with our hearts lying with you in digged-up coffins,
as long as there's just one flower not dying right-away,
as long as the decay flies-off with winds strong and hot,
as long as there's one last soul alive with no time to rot,
let's open one last gate, church, mosque or place to pray...'

december 10,2016

Comments about Visiting Aleppo

a great piece of poetry in my opinion, to the point, to humanity and opening the door at the end for finding a solution for avoiding repeating such horror events...
Great poem. Reading is an experience.
with our hearts lying with you in digged-up coffins Dust, blood, no birds calling, worms in the skull, death, corpses, let's open one last gate, church, mosque or place to pray...' A great and wonderful poem bringing in all the pain and suffering and atrocities and cruelty of such a war. You are a great poet. I read your poem 12 times today. Thank you., thank you dear poet. tony
I'm going to collect poems on (=against) ''terror'' and war. It would be nice to have one of your poems in the collection.. I'll send you a msg to tell you more about..
A vibrant denunciation of the deep madness of the war.. It is Poetry of Witness of the highest moral value. Thanks for sharing, Michael. Peace

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