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Brief Bio:

Satis Shroff  writes poems, fiction, non-fiction, and also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. He received the Pablo Neruda Award 2017 for Poetry in Crispiano, Italy. He has also received the German Academic Exchange Prize.

 

THE SANGFROID OF AFRIN’S CHILDREN (Satis Shroff)

 

Afrin, where is the sangfroid of your children?

The tongues are silenced

By a thousand bombs.

The spirits of the lost souls of Afrin,

A city of the dead.

The smell of devastation ad carnage.

Ach, how beastly nations are,

They still sacrifice children to Moloch.

 

Afrin, where the sons and husbands slaughtered,

Where mothers and daughters are left behind,

With the ruins of a bombed down.

Humans speak in hushed voices,

Not to disturb the dead.

Cloudy shadows of dreaded jets,

Screaming over the destroyed city,

Imagined pockets of resistance,

An overkill with MiGs and Sukhoi bomber.

Mothers and children shriek fear-stricken,

For there is no place to hide.

The dwellings are now traps,

With stumbling walls.

Uncertainty, chaos and gaping holes where dwellings were.

 

O, how can we look away,

When Afrin is burning,

Going up in billowing smoke and fire,

That arise from the smashed, windowless houses,

That look at us like open wounds.

The children out  in the streets,

Crying, coughing, sad, lost faces of Afrin.

Over 500 people killed in Syria in five days,

Of them 150 children who were not at war with anyone.

Do you hear the silence of the world?

* * *

The tongues are silenced

By a thousand bombs.

The spirits of the lost souls of Afrin,

A city of the dead.

The smell of devastation ad carnage.

Ach, how beastly nations are,

They still sacrifice children to Moloch.

 

O , Peace, we woo you

But you tantalize us,

With your promises,

When will you some?

 

The symbol of the white dove

Has turned into a dark raven,

That the society kicks, curses,

Cuffs and swears at.

The ravens, blackbirds, crows

Sulk, snarl and caw back

To mirror and mock the society.

 

For as long as men decide to take up arms

To solve human problems,

Peace will remain elusive

And fragile upon earth.

 

* * *

The tongues are silenced

By a thousand bombs.

The spirits of the lost souls of Afrin,

A city of the dead.

The smell of devastation ad carnage.

Ach, how beastly nations are,

They still sacrifice children to Moloch.

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