Foe A Syrian Baby's Grave - Poem by Panmelys
How to exult a poem on this day
when you awake to see a little boy
washed upon the shores of your counry, drowned:
no words can remove these tears which have jogged,
shocked, many nations refusing entry
to these migrating hoards fleeing their homeland
for reasons of instability, politic:
or else, brigands of tribal fanatics -
did this child come to stir consciences'
so convinced of their acquired culture
religious customs, comfortable nurture?
O let's not proclaim poems of exultation
when surrounded by suffering and pain,
no, let's shout out our desperate ovation,
bury this child along with many others,
in a true hero's grave, showing us our shame,
and teaching all those would-be sham heroes
using Allah's name: their way an evil omen -
O let this innocent baby be a sign
from that omnipotent spirit of no name,
for we cannot claim possession of the unseen
presence: whose cosmic essence: eternal!
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye