Night Burial in Homs

Standard

She was just eight years old,
thin wisp in a canvas shroud,
easy to carry in the night

as he slipped by snipers
hurried through
the killing lanes
to the grave,
scrapped gravel
over her head
and paused to offer
her innocent soul
to Allah,

when shots snapped,
and he fell.

Now father and daughter
together lay, no longer
afraid.

Advertisements

One thought on “Night Burial in Homs

  1. Wow, Steven! This is powerful on several levels. First, as a narrative poem it ranks up there with Scriptor Obscura’s work. It has the same narrative drive and leaves the reader breathless at the end. Second, as commentary on the current news it is not only aimed perfectly, but the power of the story manages to put the entire calamity in Syria into the exactly right perspective. Third, the language is truncated almost, plain, as sharp as the bullet sent with deadly force toward the father and daughter. This is great, great, great work.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s