In Aleppo, they do not weep
for how can one
weep in wounded time.
Souls bantered
piled up, interlocked
dead & dull
lost in dusts
in a cold frenzy night.
Oppress Eden
but not Aleppo
not today, not tonight
not in this time
where children can’t weep
to save their tears
for them to drink
& not their blood
while trapped
within collapsed walls
of the wailing world.
Children of Aleppo
cry not, die not.
Memories will never bury you
to the infested ground
saturated by psychedelic bombs
& festered by maddening
cataclysm of human cold art.
The old world tries to redeem you,
to let you live, live with living
but it cannot for how can the world
try to win, then and again
tears back to emotive impulses
breaking the wind pulsating
in the plane sanity of mind?
In Aleppo, dead men forgot
to weep. Forgetful men
wept yet weeping
with no clause why.
Aeroplanes are still there
buzzing the sky,
bombing your hearts.
Aleppo, your body might die
tonight & several nights more
but memory, in this wounded time
will never bury you to ash
for Aleppo, young child, will live
beyond wounds, beyond cries.