From Damascus

“Tell me daddy, do you miss mom?

Does she come to you in dreams?

She came to mine and held out her palm,

And she was surrounded with gleams.”

“Your mommy was this life’s joy;

Now she lives only in memory.

But go to bed, my little boy,

For night is falling quickly.”

It was two hours after midnight,

Daddy’s up thinking about mom.

How she found herself in a bullet fight,

And how she looked so very calm.

Then the Earth and sky collapsed with explosions,

And screams lit up the darkness.

A giant smog crept up and thickened,

Brought with it, a stench of malice.

The crowd held their noses and raced,

Behind them, the smog’s giant hand.

Many collapsed, fear on their face,

Others kept running, amidst the wasteland.

Daddy pushed him out the door,

“Don’t breathe, son, and get away!”

They ran, wheezed, and fell,

And were swallowed in the gray.

Visions blurred, sky darkened.

The bad stench has finally gone through.

“Mommy, mommy, are you there?

Daddy and I came for you.”