I heard an adhaan when I was born
I heard children laughing across that wall
I heard my mother cry herself to sleep
I heard Presidents throw us to the wolves like sheep
I heard the drone missiles
But my uncle didn't, now he doesn't hear at all
I heard my stomach rumbling
But I hadn't heard it was Ramadhan
I heard the man in khakhi shout 'halt'
But my father didn't, so he was gunned down
I heard they have happy childhoods over there
I heard their dead die of old age
I wander why so many of mine are small enough to fit three to a grave
I heard they grow up with ambitions over there in that elusive land
But mine ended as I suffocated on chemical gas, lungs defeat - I knew I wouldn't hear another adhaan, for my journey in Shaam was complete
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten Children
Non-FictionA collection of poems, and accounts from the children of our world growing up with war
