Children of Babylon

In whose name have you come to be my protectorate?
From this distance your eyes may be beautifully blue,
but are obscured by those dark tinted glasses.

Finger on the trigger peering down, your weighty
boots and heavy clothing (not apt for this climate
and my neighbourhood) is not intimidating at all.

I slightly freeze and am muted by wonder actually.
What really bothers me is the lack of regard
as a human being.  An embrace, a kiss, a hug –

Or pick me up and swing me round
so I laugh as children do living
in your country.  Even the rising smoke bellowing

from the blasted rubble; satanic birds scatter
their indiscriminate load, and the close proximity
of wailing incantations of my neighbour’s grief

no longer perturbs me. I am muted by years of chaos.
What really bothers me is the lack of regard
as a human being.  An embrace, a kiss, a hug –

To the Children of Syria – A Poem

Published by Skendong

Mastering the Voice. Projecting Clunky Narratives.

6 thoughts on “Children of Babylon

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