25 01 2007

It often snowed in Samarra*,
draped in the lilting hue of joy,
Gliding, merrily fell on the boulevard
mixed with the freedom of soil.
Often I stretched the hand of mine
with a desire to feel the joy
on the withering fingers of mine
but it felt only the warm sunshine
I will not hold that glistening joy
which shone in the morning sun
because I cannot,
but still I yearn to free myself from these bars,
and these chains long and hard
for the sun is calling me and the
young flakes are giggling.

(c) Soham Das

(The author wrote this poem after he read the immense torture people in Iraq suffered on their own soil during and after Saddam Hussein Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti ‘s regime. Samarra had one of the many secret torture prisons.)
*Samarra was changed from Sarre Ma (a joy of all who see) to Samarra (a “sad” for all to see) by Armenian soldiers in Medieval times.




One response

25 08 2007

daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarun hoiyeche. Touched my heart. Dont shift away from feelings & poems.

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