The written word read in silence unleashed
the feelings - which were deadened by the
cascading rivers of words riven by reporters
stationed like lampposts everywhere on the
scenes of the attacks in Paris, talking fast
just like the Kalishnikovs firing non-stop
Their deafening noise overshadowed the
events, today reading the written reports,
words struck like a barrage of sharp stones
ripping the flesh until bleeding, leaving ever-
growing ripples on the quiet pool of my inner
world until I felt the unbearable sadness of
The cost of loss, the beloved people lost:
everywhere people get killed, farmers are
killed on a daily basis, it’s expected, that’s
the known risk of staying in certain places,
but in Paris it’s unexpected - the beautiful
people now dead, introduced to us when
It’s too late, will never leave another mark
on the world, forever known as the victims
killed by ISIS terrorists on 13 November -
fanatics fighting unarmed civilians in a safe
country’s capital; reading these accounts
brought home it all – they will never go
Home again and safety in the free world
is compromised - though people vowed
not to succumb to terrorism by stopping
their lives, both victim & suicidal attacker
are exploited by criminal masterminds
using religion to terrorise while not
Believing themselves as proved by their
complete lack of mercy and love
Wonderfully penned. An important poetic work. Capable enough to touch a reader's heart and thougth.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Victim lists- -they are becoming far too common. I think of the people who never knew their names were going to be on the news and it gives me a weird feeling, every time. Great poem with a strong, accurate finish.