Syria and the Little One Watch Meetings in Paris

Syria and the Little One Watch Meetings in Paris

Syria and the Little One Watch Meetings in Paris
by “A Foolish Mother In Syria”

I have many secrets though
so tiny am I on the world stage, and yet
I can not help but do my hysterical scream on cue
throwing my ugly embarrassment in front of some eager
naïve Western college student who’s an enthusiast
for underdogs and lost causes, because
what else is there to do when
the clock ticks (as if there were any more mechanical things)
and the shelling continues blowing up a building near me

I have seen too many close calls
because I am in a minor village of disagreement
if I could be, as they say, diplomatic with
all the special terms that they say in French
and English at all the meetings where pressure is collected

My friend’s child is dead by Bashar al-Assad (don’t tell anyone).
My cousin said something. He was tortured and never mind…
I don’t know anyone in Paris. I have no protection.

I had a dream my precious little one
was killed in a minor shelling of the building
where I live and haven’t left for Turkey like the others.

I am afraid to think or be in the wrong clothing
in the presence of the wrong clan or language or word
that is the rocket of my dreams that lands on my baby
because I am so foolish to love him so much that
I don’t believe in anything any more but a place to hide
where hatred can not penetrate. Let him live and kill me
if there is a conference where they listen to all the babies’ cry
and where the boundaries of a neighborhood seem as silly as
the bark of a tree that can not speak its dignity

So tiny am I on the world stage, and yet
I can not help but do my hysterical scream

Hello Alain Juppé, pleased to meet you in fantasy. If you could,
could you kiss my baby goodbye. We are not of the ruling clan.
I had a dream my precious little one
was killed in a minor shelling. I know he and I are
so little on the world stage, and perhaps our beliefs are wrong, but
have you ever seen him smile. If you’d let him live, maybe you could
teach him French and persuade him of some form of love that perhaps
all humans have in common. I don’t know with so much evil here.
I know I should have faith, but if my my child would not be a martyr
then…

Maybe I didn’t study enough, but there’s little time for me to learn.
So tiny am I. Take me. Save my child. Have you seen him smile.
He looks important. I know it. He’s a prophet in the wrong neighborhood.

The big group will meet again next month in Washington. I had a dream
that an innocent shell from a government gun hit my child in the face.
Likely. The Blue Helmets will not arrive in time in my yard. You should have seen
him smile yesterday.

Regime forces break into homes. Close. C’est la vie.

But no: I’m not that Mother you think you know. I’m the other one.
One with many secrets
that a little bird told me
when it flew away from an explosion.

It said that every one knows the Russians are brutal.
Even the Vietnamese knew that, and
had sympathy for the foolish Americans that they defeated. Everyone
knows that the Russians and Chinese are
Godless and fair weather friends.

The delay and veto are death. Of course, and
I am so tiny on the world stage. What would I know.
Have you seen him smile. Isn’t it beautiful.

Russia Says Outside Forces Threaten Syrian Cease Fire

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/18/world/middleeast/russia-says-outside-forces-threaten-syrian-cease-fire.html

— Douglas Gilbert

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3 thoughts on “Syria and the Little One Watch Meetings in Paris

  1. This is so heartbreaking and sad…i think it’s every parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child. You have such an amazing way of conveying another person’s perspectives or feelings about things. It would be horrible to be a mother surrounded in such violence. I really liked these lines
    ‘persuade him of some form of love that perhaps
    all humans have in common. I don’t know with so much evil here.’
    I’m sure that having to live in a place so filled with evil, death and violence it might be hard to even imagine love. I hope and pray that i never have to live in fear like that…
    .

    1. Thanks. I’ve realized that I just spewed out a lot of sentences, but it’s not really poetic. I’ve been trying to revise it but the posting mechanism is not working. I don’t know if it’s my computer or if wordpress is having a problem. I’ve tried several times know but I can’t seem to get my version 2 posted. I don’t know if will fit here in the mean time or not.
      Tiny, I have so many secrets though
      I’m fretting upon a world stage, and yet
      I can not help but have hysterical screams on cue
      to do my ugly embarrassment for
      some eager naïve college student who’s
      an enthusiast for underdogs and lost causes, because
      what else is there to do when the clock ticks
      (as if there were any more mechanical things)
      and the shelling continues to quickly
      blow up a building so near to me

      I have seen too many close calls, and
      much greater brawls, because I am
      in a minor village of disagreement
      if I could be, as they say, diplomatic with
      all the special terms that they say in French, and
      English at all the meetings where pressure is collected

      My friend’s child is dead by Bashar al-Assad (don’t tell anyone).
      My cousin said something. He was tortured and never mind…
      I don’t know anyone in Paris. I have no protection.

      I had a dream my precious little one
      was killed in a shelling of my building where
      I live and don’t leave for Turkey like the others.

      I am afraid to think or be in the wrong clothing
      in the presence of the wrong clan or language or word
      that’s a rocket of my dreams that lands on my baby
      ’cause I am so foolish to love his smile so much and
      not believe in anything anymore but
      a place to hide where hatred can not penetrate.

      Let him live and kill me if
      there’s a conference where
      they listen to all the babies’ cries
      and where the boundaries
      of a neighborhood seem as silly as
      the bark of a tree that can not speak its dignity

      So tiny am I on the world stage, and yet
      I can not help but do my hysterical scream

      Hello Alain Juppé, pleased to
      meet you in fantasy. If you could, could you
      kiss my baby goodbye. We
      are not of the ruling clan, and I
      had a dream my precious little one
      was killed in a minor shelling. I know he and I are
      so little on the world stage, and perhaps
      our beliefs are wrong, but
      have you ever seen him smile. If you’d
      let him live, maybe you could
      teach him French and persuade him
      of some form of love that perhaps all humans
      have in common. I don’t know with so much evil here.
      I know I should have faith, but if
      my my child would not be a martyr
      then…

      Maybe I didn’t study enough, but there’s little time for me to learn.
      So tiny am I. Take me. Save my child. Have you seen him smile.
      He looks important. I know it. He’s
      a prophet in the wrong neighborhood.

      The big group will meet again
      next month in Washington. I had a dream that an
      innocent shell from a government gun
      hit my child in the face. Likely. The
      Blue Helmets will not
      arrive in time in my yard.

      You should have seen
      him smile yesterday.

      Regime forces break into homes. Close. C’est la vie.

      But no: I’m not that Mother you think you know. I’m the other one.
      One with many secrets
      that a little bird told me
      when it flew away from an explosion.

      It said that every one knows the Russians are brutal.
      Even the Vietnamese knew that, and
      had sympathy for the foolish
      Americans that they defeated. Everyone
      knows that the Russians and Chinese are
      Godless and fair weather friends.

      The delay and veto are death. Of course, and
      I am so tiny on the world stage. What would I know.
      Have you seen him smile. Isn’t it beautiful.

      http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/18/world/middleeast/russia-says-outside-forces-threaten-syrian-cease-fire.html

      — Douglas Gilbert

      1. Yikes I got version 2 to post but I couldn’t add any tags and couldn’t edit it at all. Well, at least I got part of it done. And I did manage to post an additional comment on the yoga post. I forget the name of that one and I’m afraid to look for it because I may lose this website again. It keeps disappearing. I don’t know what the problem is. I signed off and signed in again and did all the updates etc. Maybe tomorrow it will be better.

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