Years ago, in 1992 and after the Zangon Kataf crisis. I was an adolescent and yet attempted to write poetry. This was what I had then unedited: Hate has flooded in worst of its storms Engulfing the devilish to the brim of his neck In his mind, body and soul it finds its settlement His face, thoughts and vision it finds its expression His hands, words and pens it finds its practice Hatching troubles he goes by killing Maiming, looting, destroying in arson Alas! In peace not, in pieces he’ll live and forever For one cannot rejoice at the expense of other people’s misery Nor can one build up their own happiness on the distress of those around them No! Never! The demons of restlessness shall descend on him Pronto! The peaceful dove shall flee his stand For the flame of evil flames back its origin.
Posted on: Thu, 24 Apr 2014 11:58:03 +0000
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