The Wretched Gray Cloud

Sidra Fatima

beneath the alluring orb o' mine
blisters and ache overwhelm the rhyme
away from home the children route
is the living, for aye this brute?
the smoke outstrips the beguiling blue
the screams gaudier than the fiery hue
towards the border neighbours run
sprawling figures underneath the afternoon sun.
a midget soul lifts amidst the swarm
fighting to find his mother's palm
his lucent eyes gives out a call
"Mama, where are you", the little one squall!
defeating the clamour, a mother bawl
"I'm here, I'm here", she tried to call
with dim visage and travail pace
the fulgent love overwhelmed the grave!
now yon they have fled the siege
a shade is strived by the refugees
to run or fight for the Syrian soil
the ruin of their family the burghers recoil.
the sword has riven the Idlib wen
disaster engulfs the peaceful realm
children wait for the manna from heaven
and miles the pilot in the sombre raven.
and all they long is to march adobe
to see kids playing on this horrid road
with the hope of surviving eventually
borders are traversed by the Syrian refugees!

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