by Donna

I cry for the children
Who had to colour many gardens 'red'
For mothers sobbing on their graves, I cry

I cry for the tortured and tormented
For those who dream in jails and eat from their detached souls
And for the beggars in the streets
I cry for the lost autumn leaves

For our forbidden childhood touched with prejudice
And for the murky painful hours
Behind my weary eyes, I cry
For my missing parts, I cry
For my sisters *Qamishli, Diyarbakir, Erbil and Kermashan
I cry for the bleeding flag of Kurdistan

I cry for the victims in Kele
For their scattered flesh over me
I cry for the disturbed rivers
Flowing blood instead
For my lost words, I cry

I cry for the flame of war I played hide and seek under
For my sisters bleeding lips under the tent; C O L D

I cry for the places that sheltered me
The frowned faces I read
The countless strangers I met
And for my friends perfect rose, gone too soon
The flimsy boat that terrified men
For the raging waves of the sea, I cry

For my mom's photo album
Swirling with an enraged wave
For her tears she dropped in the sea
I cry for the last feast she held and kissed me
I cry for my weeping heart
For eternity, I cry

*Qamishli, Diyarbakir, Arbil and Kermashan= are the four capital cities of the four parts of Kurdistan
*Kele= is a mountainous place abroad Iran covered by land mines and in 1996 when we fled Iraq we stayed in Kele under tents for a couple of months.

Copyright © 2007 - Donna
Published: 8/30/07   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem