Daughter of Syria

By the time all facts
Lie on the plate
The question might be
Will it be too late?

Those lonely eyes
Have seen it all
The daily horrors
How big, how small.

Her tears were dried
Some years ago
When enemies told her
Just let it go.

But family remained
In her hidden soul
Come even with them
Her only goal.

She was no hero
Just a victim of war
Her home destroyed
Hope lost so far.

She’s just a girl
Who helps her area
With food and clothes
Daughter of Syria.

        © Séamus Kennan / 2017

Scriptorium_Header 33a

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