"Defenders of the realm
Peace be on you
Our proud spirits will
Not be subdued”
soft white syrian jasmine blooms
and showers the land
where my mother lived diagonally
across the street from my father
its scent flutters delicately in the air
over sidewalks covered
in lopsided stone
we used to whisper
playfully
to one another
us sisters
insults about Assad
man who insists
he rule above
a country of graves
who chases
after the setting sun
our frightened young words
now storm
the country
while thousands of claps
echo in swollen alleyways
and the people will march
for all the days stolen from the dead
city that takes its time
damascus
the world is asking for your news
carrier of old memories
place where we used to
kick soccer balls
summertime
between passing cars
and race to buy snacks
from shop owner who insisted
we pay him back later
each time
syria
is it true that your army is full of heartless killers?
daraa’s streets
are alive today with running voices
crowded with
live bodies
fighting tanks
live bodies
fighting bullets
bodies
lying lifeless on the ground
fighting Assad’s legitimacy
while others have
five more minutes
left
and run
I hear
some soldiers
are still switching sides
gun shots pop, pound
and heartbeats shudder
the old man’s camera
shakes
as he watches criminals
fire death
into the sky
and posts it online
after the explosion
the earth rattled
so they shouted:
“god is greater”
who built
this earth
to shake
showing bravery so dazzling
that casts its light over light from the sun
defenders of the realm
peace be on you
your proud spirits will
not be subdued
you will bring the lion to its knees
with freedom soaking in your eyes
and smiles that tell of triumphs