Tag Archives: war


Seafoam, her rhythms matched the sea waves

a perfect duet

At dusk, she knelt at the altar

bent low, with an air of tranquility, prayer at her lips

eyes shut with grave devotion

all the emotions that she felt, now flooding

stained glass of the church halls

and the whitewashed walls couldn’t do justice to what she held

as candles flicker, a memory fresh, as the pain she felt

a photograph, that bound her heart, that she cherished

of her and her mother’s, of her tender scent, endearing touch, like a ray of sunshine

like the bells of  a church her laugh, ringing

she reminisced, her voice, a warm embrace, singing carols in the dead Christmas nights

the crackling of the firewood, of hot embers and her hand, clasped  in her mother’s

A sudden jolt and she was rudely awakened from her memory

the bullets came first, devouring her, famished

destroying the stained glass

diminishing the light within until it was extinguished

Her faith wrecked, her body, broken

sudden flashbacks engulfed her, her mother’s sudden urges awakened her

as she stumbled for what her life was worth, couldn’t reach the altar

the bombs shook the walls

resonated far away

and there she lay

with her memories

of happier times, of sweeter days

the prayer snatched from her scathed lips

Desolated shorelines, now nobody danced with the sea waves

nobody caressed the sea foam.


This poem showcases the memories of the girl who danced along with the sea waves. The waves remember her rhythmic footsteps with the soft sand beneath her feet. It is understood that she is a very religious person who used to regularly visit the church with her mother. Now her mother is no longer by her side and she keeps having flashbacks of happier times with her mom. They used to pray together, sing carols during Christmas night, and dance together. She misses her warm embrace and rendering touch and her scent still lingers in her memory fresh as if she is still by her side. It seems that her mother died a very tragic death and might have been killed in the ongoing war. It is painful for the girl to recount those memories and she tries to bury them deep in her heart. All that she holds now of her mother is the old photography which was the only thing left behind of her mother. As she kneels down to pray at the altar she is suddenly awakened by the bullets which starts destroying the church windows and one by one starts wrecking the whole building, the girl tries with all her might to run as fast as she can away from the bullets but all in vain. Lastly, we see that the girl faces a similar fate as her mother and ends us dead inside the church walls. With all that fades away, the church in ruins now no longer can hold her memories of sweeter and simpler times. Now the shores miss the girl who danced along with the waves, the girl who came to pray with her mother.



The hum of the radio

a far distant cry

the sorrowful weeping

from the broken window

Puzzling, why would the cherry skies

the golden riverbed

the symphony of the saxophone

could bring such misery

to those mysterious cries

The radio now broken

the distant cry now a cacophony

the voice, breaking

now of deep resentment, of anguish unheard

my footsteps echo

I sense hasty retreat

of those rhythmic feet

a haunting stillness fills the air

of dreary lanes and dusty highways

I find myself drawn for those

pain filled whimpers

the radio now lined with dust

the skies grey

the unwelcomed bombings instills terror

the ghastly dead bodies that lay

amidst the horror , I hear the scream

a scream for freedom, of anguish,of lost loved ones and terror

Beneath the window

eyes lined with fear

lips parched with suppression

cheeks glistening of fresh tears

my feet finds strength

I dash downstairs, my hijab snags

amid the charred glass

my pistol in hand

snatching those blood covered hands

we flinch when anything snaps

now undaunted by his reassuring glance

we flee,driven out of our own homeland

the terror spreads, bombings like a murderous plague

till our feet burns,under the scorching sand

our blood covers every wall of our land

I imagine the dust lined radio

my memory still fresh of the weeping window


In a war ravaged country, where once you could hear the noisy chatter of the radio and see the beautiful golden lit sky, now only the dark grey clouds and crumbled pathways welcome you. Amidst all this chaos, we see two innocent souls fighting to survive. The poet senses a wailing noise coming from somewhere nearby and goes to inspect it during which she comes across a small boy weeping. His rhythmic sobs seems sorrowful and he looks terrified. This gives the poet the strength to run away with the boy with a pistol in her hand, from that place. In the aftermath of this destruction we come to understand that the poet has fled her homeland along with the small boy and is now reminiscing about the whole experience. The war has torn the country apart and there is nothing but broken pieces of land scattered here and there. From ‘our blood covers every wall of our land’ we understand that the poet is talking about the death of her countrymen. Those who fought bravely against the invaders and lost their lives for their homeland. This is a very grim scenario created by the poem which shows the harsh realities of what is going on in the world. When two countries are at war, the casualties  are not only physical but emotional too. People who have managed to escape have to live lifelong with the trauma of the past and some even develop post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This poem is a depiction of how war affects young children and how they have to cope with being separated from their country. It is a very implicit depiction of the war turned country of Israel.