For the ones who attempted something different

The Syria I once knew no longer exists,

Instead it is a land that is drenched with blood –

Of the innocent, of the helpless, of the ones who attempted something different.

The Syria I once loved is unrecognisable,

Instead is it a land that has been stolen.

The years of Assad rule did its damage –

A search for something different has led to its punishment

How dare they desire bread, freedom and dignity?!

No! Now they must endure the madness of killers –

Killers of the innocent, of the helpless, of the ones who attempted something different.

The Syria I once knew has become a land which only serves the deranged –

livelihoods bludgeoned,

even Olive Trees, the epitome of peace, on the brink of harvest –

torn from their ground.

The humanity that existed there,

that travelled there in search of truth or in aid

has been ripped out –

severed of its very existence.

And yet, that Syria, the one I still love, the one I still yearn for –

Is still ours,

Its land remembers our love,

Our devotion,

It has not abandoned us,

And we must return it that favour –

We can choose to give up,

Or we can choose to keep searching –

In the name of the innocent, of the helpless, of the ones who attempted something different.

~ by Tamara Al-Om on September 18, 2014.