Dead.

Thu, 02/01/2018 - 14:01 -- Sameen

Children crying gazing at their mother.

The mother is still, motionless, and a scarlet flood is rushing toward us.

Children cry, their salty tears making their clothes soggy.

“Mother is dead,” they say,

What will happen to the children?  

They are only one and two

Survival is impossible.

Suddenly, everyone is frozen, still as my father’s grave.

Then, I hear fireworks, but there is no celebration,

People are falling into the hole of death

Collapsing on the cracked gray road

I hear the wail of my neighbors, their child is dead.

The mother is weeping, crying for her 6 months old child.

Once my mama told me, “We are escaping,

heading to Jordan to escape a war.”

Is that why these people are running?

Where is mama?

Unexpectedly, someone collapses behind me,

their bloody hand grabs my right shoulder.

Soaking my shirt with vermilion life,

I rotate to look at the person.

The appearance looks familiar,

I see my eyes in her eyes

Her eyes are trying to tell me something,

Her eyes beg me to listen

They force me to look at her

I watch as her shaking hand points to the right,

In her last motion, she shows me where to run with love and fear.

It’s my mama, my mama.

She is laying right in front of my eyes,

Her green eyes are shut, her chapped brown lips are filled with dark red blood.

She was the only person, that I ever loved.

The only one.

She is gone too, just like my daddy.

She is Dead, I think to myself

She is Dead.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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