Syria’s senseless murderous regime
and terrorist atrocities
go to the heart of the loss
of respect for sheer existence.
Whole families — mothers, fathers, children
purposelessly slain for an Idea
that has escaped the world.
In little islands of memories
lived one breath of people
who lived by the season of nature’s calling
— a few attuned to the country’s rhythm
have survived to teach the high priests
of postmodernity and inventors of powerful
destructive weapons to descend
from their bejeweled thrones of clay,
clutch real dust and soil with their bare hands,
wash off the stain of their wasted soul
in the sea of life, shake themselves and
awaken the cells, capillaries and
lifeblood of their Original Face.
It’s time to fly the Dove
with the green clover upon its mouth
to vanquish the shadowy world of delusion
that seeks to enthrone a realm
helplessness and hopelessness
through vacuous geopolitics
and intra-ethnic religious race.
Where else could the one-eyed redeemer
resistance fighters turn to but to retreat
from the death knell of their spiralling,
revolving annihilation and return
to their Maker’s authentic face?