Speaking of.... (a poem)

Sayf Abdeen | 21-09-2016

Syrian boy in ambulance

It’s funny, isn’t it?
We all can talk,
and talk
and talk.

We can say words,
and words
and words.

Speaking of ideas,
and ideas
and ideas.

But when the time comes,
for our words
to turn into actions,
our ideas to become reality…
Our tongues
suddenly dry,
Our minds
instantly retry.
Our train of thought
immediately dies.

 

Syrian boy on beach

We speak of refugees,
not as humans.
But as…
things.

We speak of wars
not as combustions
of death
or misery.
But as movie reels or photo albums
that cannot affect us.

We see a picture of a dying child.
But many do not see a dying child,
or a child at all.
But just that: a picture.

We do not see the eyes,
or as they say,
the window to the soul.

Souls who lived lacking
love and compassion,
replaced by dust and ashes,
bombing and blasting,
and hatred they do not even understand.

The hatred living in those who see
things, not refugees.
Places bedeviled by war, not places of misery.
Pictures of children, not real children crushed under debris.

But saying all this,
am I nothing more than a hypocrite?

Because,
after all,
this is all talk…
These are but words…
Nothing more than ideas…
Worthless… in the end.

Posted on International Peace Day, September 21, 2016


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