genocidepoetry

Relentless Zephyr


Suffused in a crimson flood amidst pale, still faces,

I danced amongst a relentless zephyr.

 

A presto of odourless vapours in symphony with the wind,

Composed of silent roars began to settle me in.

Whispering hymns that left life lingering, I led my own requiem.

 

Softly inhaled cloud motifs, rhythmic in numbers,

Sheltered my lungs and swallowed me whole.

I waltzed in crystal clear flames before the final curtain call.

 

Lyrics that spun melodies of a trembling ballad,

Deafened cries of a village petrified,

As spring welcomed songs of genocide.

Translated by M. Bakr



Pomegranate Stained Skirts

Pomegranate stained skirts, ruby lined necks,
Ignored pulses, forced to endure on intruders beds.

Innocence stolen by the galloping black stained with crimson red,
As daughters were transformed into the living dead.

History of a vibrant land began to sway,
Like a burning peacock’s tail, colours were led astray.

Charred hope fled up a mountain or into a cave,
Death charmed both, amidst a cruel heat wave.

Wailing echoes, cry songs of a crippled heart,
As newlyweds were crushed and forced apart.

A foreign husband sworn in every hour,
Filling trenches of damaged wombs, unable to flower.

Profane shackles comfort her feet,
As lungs yearn for a rope,
An exit, twisted from dirty bed sheets.

The silent sphere, bursting in bites of doubt,
As humanity began to weep and pour out.

How the faith in their fickle neighbours burned,
As fathers waited for their daughters to be returned.

Relentless Zephyr.

Suffused in a crimson flood amidst pale, still faces,

I danced amongst a relentless zephyr.

 

A presto of odourless vapours in symphony with the wind,

Composed of silent roars began to settle me in.

Whispering hymns that left life lingering, I led my own requiem.

 

Softly inhaled cloud motifs, rhythmic in numbers,

Sheltered my lungs and swallowed me whole.

I waltzed in crystal clear flames before the final curtain call.

 

Lyrics that spun melodies of a trembling ballad,

Deafened cries of a village petrified,

As spring welcomed songs of genocide.