The Syrian stood on the ruins of home
And gazed at the shattered glass in his hand
And the calls to prayer rang
From the mosque through the air
The Syrian turned his head to the sun
And said to himself
Vengeance is a migrant
Diplomacy is weak
And he dipped himself
In the blood of a sacrificed beast
Turned away from Aleppo
And set out for a border town
Controlled by a band of ISIL converts
Radical recruitment, operation covert
Supplied and funded by US aid
And in came the command
To strike at the heart of democracy
And destroy it, at last
In search of inversion
Of paradise
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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