O
forever Dying Nation.
O
nation dying to be born.
O
Syrian nation.
O
nation too Syrian to come together.
O
home sweet home…to be.
O
sweetness that has long forgotten how to be homely.
O
motherland, too infatuated with herself to be kind.
O
outlandish kindness that can never be motherly, (regardless of our needs).
O
temple of too many an impotent god.
O
god of too many an infertile temple.
O
Paradise, unmade over and over again.
O
dream,
O
illusion,
O
necessity,
O
betrayal.
O
sacred tree
of
life without dignity.
What
do you want of me?
What
do you want of me?
I
have no more soul left to give.
I
have no more shrapnel of life and dignity.
Haven’t
you eaten enough of your dead and dying children?
Hasn’t
your necrophagic appetite been satisfied yet that you so intently seek me?
June 1998