‘Children of Homs’
Humanity is broken in Syria,
Despair is burying them deep
The lost little children in Homs,
Crying with fear as we sleep
No sunlight, no food, nor joy,
Shattered and shelled all around
Huddled and weeping together,
Living like rats underground
Hope taking flight as they cry,
Ground into dust their fate
Blown like flies in the sun,
Dying on a carcass of a state
Voices in valleys of bodies,
Souls that lies slain and burned
Forests of forms ticked and listed
Marked out for inaction returned
Victims of greed and oppression,
Slaves to retention of power
Suffer the little children,
By month, by day and by hour
By
Mary Cecil
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