by Yanis Iqbal
Each house is entombed in forlornness
Each lamp of hope is bedewed with droplets of blood
Tulips wither away into bleak desolation
Glistening-green grapes lie uncultivated and unseen
Faint echoes vagabond in the moonless sky,
Mournfully searching for the lost ones.
The searing heat of the endless siege
Burns and blackens the whispering leaves of love.
Twigs of human bond smolder in this superimposed silence
Shadows of sadness engirdle the sleepless nights
Dust-smeared Palestinian flags stare at the pellet-strewn humanless streets.
No one can stitch the fluttering flaps of a broken country,
Embosomed in icicles of war-encrusted history.
All the fissured fields and fragmented forests
Have dissipated like dust
The Palestinian people are again sifting through the rubble and ashes of their country.
Yanis Iqbal is an independent researcher and freelance writer based in Aligarh, India and can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org