Empire : the poor & the restless – K.B

In a little town in the Middle east…

Empire : the poor and restless

Wake up , Amar,
Planes are coming !

Amar scrubs his eyes,
Heavy from sleep.

He follows his aunt
To the basement,
He can hear the distant
Drumming in the walls.

He sits on the bench
Then Hell starts
Like fireworks,
Walls cracking
And the sounds
Of boum
Almost raise
Panic in him
In the dark.

The pounding
Makes dust
The sound
Of bombing
Maybe they’ll survive,
Maybe not.

The coalition
Is hitting hard.

Why on earth
Is this happenning
To them?

The bombing started
A year ago.

Night after nights,
These hell raisers
Keep on coming back.

He bets the pilots
Have unthreatened
Homes of their own.

He won’t go to school
It may be not standing

Plus, he needs sleep.

He’ll try to avoid the wave
Of bad news that always ensues
A bombing.

Wounded civilians,
Dead, destroyed homes,
He has a warm thought
For his friends.

He is shivering in the cold.
The only exit is to immigrate
But how and where?

He saw his brothers
On T.V confrunted
To closed european
He saw the bodies
Floating lifelessly
In the sea.

It could’ve been him,
Or a million other
People whose territories
Are being raided by
Foreign planes and local

Another deep sound
Sends waves in his body.

They don’t even have food
To recover.

The trauma, the daily
Lack of sleep,
The constant fear nagging
In his stomach…
Is there a life possible
On Earth?

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