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My Mother Syria

My mother
she has been crying for
a long time now
weeping for her children
her children burning in flames

My mother is now shrieking
and screaming with pain
her skin being ripped off
her bones breaking
she’s crumbling, disintegrating.

My mother’s crying
her body tore apart,
she’s being raped openly
bombed, she’s in flames.

She;s being torn apart
The whole world is seeing her being
torn apart
and they’re all pretending to be blind
And she’s being torn apart
But yet the world pretends to be blind.

My mother’s tears have created their own ocean
And I the child, have found shelter
We’re safe in my mother’s tears
The world is too cruel
The world is deaf to our screams
The world is blind to our wounds
The world is dumb

My mother, my mother’s name is
Syria.

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A Wall of Debris

In the distance,
a wall of debris.
Cold, damp, sunless,
forgotten, even.
An ode to all the
undiscovered words,
misplaced souls,
deceased dreams–
Those arrested in
eternal winter.

How many have given up their lives due to the carelessness of others?
Aren’t we all just living some variation of the same story?
Why is it so easy to divide, judge, negatively compartmentalize?
Let us always remember each other’s humanness.
Then, maybe we will finally understand what it means to empathize.

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Morning Rituals

Every morning
Between bites
Of a buttery paratha
And gharam chai
I was reminded
By Ammi

Be nice to everyone
Say thank you and sorry
Remember your manners
Make sure you’re clean
Respect your teachers
Don’t give them a chance
To think
We’re bad
Only say how good religion is
We’re civilized
So they get this
Terrorist image out of their head

And I thought to myself
How funny that I have to convince
Others to treat me
See me like them

Like a human.