At dawn today a refugee shelter in Qana, Lebanon, was bombed, killing at least 55 people, 34 of them children. When will it stop? This is tearing me to pieces.
Cats
And then there was a gap
where my life used to be ...
The light on Chestnut Hill never dims.
I hesitate to tell the people there
that somewhere else
the sun is broken,
that somewhere else
my dad tells me
--so earnestly he could almost believe it--
that it will be alright,
that, miraculously, our building still stands,
and that he ventures home still
every once in a while,
to feed my sister's cats.
I don't tell him it's the cats
that make me cry,
that the thought of them cowered
in the stairwell,
not even meowing,
as the world's face is peeled
is all I can handle ....
--Ashraf Osman
(Please see the poem in its entirety at archmemory.blogspot.com)
2 comments:
Pepek,
Thank you for the post. Could you please add a link to the original post since you have excerpted the poem?
Many thanks,
Ashraf
Dear Pepek,
Thank you for your last three entries. How can the beauty of children, be wasted, diregarded. It is the act of pure hate.
And still we grow and make our children, in places more safe??or more lucky for the moment.
Life urges us on. So we send out seeds, in rocky ground, and pray for fertile soil.
Thanks for sharing your pictures of your grandkids.
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