Aleppo

'Aleppo' by Voirrey Faragher

Aleppo will never mean beauty again. Never

mean rivers and mosques, hanging gardens,

shaded courtyards, where old men rest, where women

laugh and children play under trees, where young girls

sing and writers dream of yesterday and tomorrow

and artists paint their dreams. Green turned to grey,

gold to dust, songs to howls which consume us all

and let us pray in this most unholy of hours,

for redemption, for forgiveness as we watch.

Let us pray for the children buried in rubble

whose screams we will hear forever and forever

and let us pray for the lawbreakers and rebels,

for the crucified, the mutilated and the flayed

that they are so blessed their descendants may forget

to revenge this massacre. For the heavens

would surely weep to see their return, like ghost ships

sailing dry oceans, searching for the shore.

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