Hamza al-Khatib

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Hamza al-Khatib

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hamza al-Khatib,
smiled sweetly.

Was he thinking of school
and soccer, or friends
waiting to play
when they caught him,

roughly hauled him into their white van
took him to their station, and demanded
confession
from his glistening tears,
from his tender face flushed
with confusion and fear?

They would make of him
an example
of what happens to those
who pursue happiness
in Assad’s Syria.

But you, weeping parents,
you-tube us your tortured child’s
distorted face, gaping chest
torn arms, dishonored genitals.

Show us how
Assad destroys your future.

O parents of Syria, rise up
and send Assad
to cower before heaven’s gate

as Allah
gently cradles
your slaughtered
children.

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