deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Rhythm of the World
This morning in Aleppo
Was bloodshed
Gunshots, RPGs,
Bomb blasts
Like the achaba suicide bomber
Of Kaduna
A little boy in Syria is running
To escape the shrapnel of
The shooter’s shells and mortars
A disillusioned al'majiri is planting
Local explosives in a church
Somewhere in Borno.
My bedroom receives
Fresh percolation of sun rays
Early morning sun rays
It reminds me
How we used to sing do re mi
A female deer
A drop of golden sun
A name I call myself.
But where have they all gone?
The songs
Where have they gone?
Was bloodshed
Gunshots, RPGs,
Bomb blasts
Like the achaba suicide bomber
Of Kaduna
A little boy in Syria is running
To escape the shrapnel of
The shooter’s shells and mortars
A disillusioned al'majiri is planting
Local explosives in a church
Somewhere in Borno.
My bedroom receives
Fresh percolation of sun rays
Early morning sun rays
It reminds me
How we used to sing do re mi
A female deer
A drop of golden sun
A name I call myself.
But where have they all gone?
The songs
Where have they gone?
Published 13th Sep 2012
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6th Apr 2013 3:41pm
My heart goes out to all that feel the weight of war. And don't you fret. The songs are still alive and well. I watched a video not to long ago of soldiers hiding in a bunker, singing songs of freedom. The language I could not understand. But the message was clear. We all pray for peace, and liberation. Love be with you.
