The Children Of Arwad Poem by Seif-Eldeine O

The children have never read the words
'dulce et decorum est' or seen the dove
or swam so far out that the jellyfish

could sting them. They have enough energy
to chase the pigeons, but not enough bread
to feed them. They'd rather use spray paint

on the stony walls of Arwad's narrow corridors
than to earn some lira painting the sides of tankers.
In the streets, they run and shout.

A jump rope, a soccer ball, two empty nut cans,
the Mediterranean, clothes dripping with sea.
They know how to move their feet,

they know how to dive, they know how to rinse
their hands of paint, and they know, if the water
gets too deep, to let air into lungs, to float.

Originally published in Vayavya