Dim room. A small window with a blank curtain emitting no light. The ceiling fan is spinning. No sound is heard. A French fry container is open on the floor beside a Washington Post paper and a big coffee mug, that has no coffee. An unmoving body has crashed out on a thin mattress. The smoke from a cigarette between two of his fingers fills the room. His hand is hesitant to grab the last fry. It’s probably cold and dry. It looks delicious but it won’t taste delicious. He seems in no mood to eat after yesterday’s junk food dinner that he had with his thoughts. His head is on the pillow that he holds whenever the inner battles begin. I ask him, “what battles?” “Of finding a place to call home, of finding a place to call home!” His eyes fill with tears, and he breaks the silence.
Mohammed S Arafat July 15th, 2020
This poem is dedicated to the refugees of Palestine, Yemen, Syria, Afghanistan and many other war-torn countries, who are still looking for a home.
Hey give me a hand Hey please give me a hand Have mercy on me, at least Give me something just to eat I have been hungry for over a year Don't you all have His fear Don't you see I am all bones The flesh eaten away by war & drones There is no roof over my head Only mother Earth my all time bed The bullets & shells took away all Until I couldn't stand the fall I am feeble & can not move This hunger has eaten even my torso While the World watches me die How will it face the Creator with its lie For I will not forgive you on that day When I will stand tall on the Judgement day.
Post me a letter bomb to ******* up. Reduce me to pieces for I've had enough. The biggest bit of me, my thumb. Look at it just sitting there, on the floor. I’m like strawberry jam, all over the walls. Best way to be in this selfish money grabbing world, dead. Blown up like those stuck in Aleppo. Blitzed by Putin's bombs in the world's weapon proving ground. I want no part of it or the world. Tell them I'm from Aleppo and that I too write. What will you write about us all, when we’re gone? Then gather my ****** remains and put them in a hole. For then I'm home and finally free. Like all of the others, killed my Putin and the rest. Worse than the Devil at his worst. All for power, weapons sales and pride.