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Apr 2017
I had hoped for spring
For its promise
It's warmth and light
An insurrection of color
To finally topple grey
Such color
That my eyes are transfixed
My mind knows the name
But cannot contain
So much color
It burns
But the sky opens
Winters wrath
Cold and grey
reminds me
Of the frailty of things
And rescinds hope

You had hoped for spring
A new awakening
A promise
Fraternity over fear
Independence instead of
We were transfixed
Arab spring
Our mind knows the name
Yet does not grasp its meaning
We watch warily
As the sparks
And the ambers catch
But the winds change
And you are but
A faraway fire
In a faraway place
So much apathy
Reminds you of the frailty of conscience
And rescinds hope

I wanted to write of spring
Of quince
Such color
That it hurts
The eyes
But the skies opened
And the rain burned
And through the tears
My eyes are transfixed
Such evil
I can no longer see spring
But see children
Side by side
Who will never
Be self determined
Or feel warmth
Or know spring
And this is the frailty of
And we must not rescind
The title doesn't even come close up to naming what is happening in Syria. I struggled with the title, but didn't want to leave it  unnamed. I struggled with the poem, but didn't want to leave it Unsaid.  I don't want to  trivialize others suffering,   I didn't write this to make myself feel better but there is no calculus equals the sum of what we have seen. I wrote this so I do not forget .
Written by
John Reilly
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