Aleppo

“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