“Aleppo won't be there
anymore,” i heard say,
“if we don't do anything
to save it.”
terrifying thought, come
to think of it,
that the alabaster city
will be gone, any day.
in december, so this
person said,
everything and everyone
will be gone or dead –
in quiet terror –
the battle neither
lost nor won.
for thirteen thousand
years,
the copper city has stood
and withstood
the fears.
for thirteen thousand
years,
it slowly gave birth to
nations,
those that now bring it
tears,
that wipe its generations.
today it lies blasted,
its wide-open rib cage,
licked clean, bloodied,
bathed in pure rage,
dehumanized,
pillaged,
shelled out of its shell,
pelted in,
buried
its language, its culture,
its buildings, its
sculptures,
its ruins,
deconstructed
the city's whiteness
marred,
washed in mire –
yet Aleppo has already
disappeared –
when the first bullet was
fired
when the first chunk of
ground was delved
on july the nineteenth
twenty twelve –
Aleppo was scratched off
our memories
before we even dreamt of
its demise
unthought
long afore its pines were
seen dancing in the breeze
long afore its children
were heard barrelling through the streets
Aleppo and its people were
lost to us
Aleppo and its people are
lost to us
Aleppo and its people were
Aleppo
Alep
