The shots zoom in from everywhere
Strokes of crimson brush the marble
The bombs, like blessings,drop from the air
Here, everyone has his or her own
Version of what they call the truth
Like in Kurosawa’s Rashomon
In this city of faiths and antiquity
History is being unmade
In the sound and light reality show on TV
And no one knows or cares to know
Who has buried whom when minds collapse
Like the monuments of Aleppo.
And no one knows or cares to know
Who has buried whom when minds collapse
Like the monuments of Aleppo.
Such powerful lines !
Thank you very much, dear Santosh.
A timely commentary on contemporary events as seen through the discerning lens of a poet’s conscience.
Thank you very much,Louis.
Sensitive and powerful!
Thank you, dear Sunila.