Dead Stars

Let us forget
their faltering war
of shatterings –
of splinterings
of run-from-shops
blown high-to-dust
by others’ drops
of barrel bombs… /


Sat, live-streaming,
today, once more,
oversee dying,
kids choked by war


It exists today, another foul descent,
where thousands of sickening acts are set:
Saydnaya – Assad’s concrete playhouse,
a lowly spectacle, directed from Damascus,
those dark┬árehearsal rooms set for Death…

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Dusted down by the fallout,
now grit-showered,
the extra weight of white,
on their protection,
on their masked faces

Their Waiting

On my screen,
a palm held light,
I am led into Aleppo,
to a hospital,
where the staff stand
waiting for the rushed