I don’t know where I’m going. Whatever path i take, It seems like I’m going back and forth. There is no place to run, no place to seek shelter. My homeland is being bombarded. I'm stuck in the middle of a battlefield. The smoke fills the skies. I can hear the screams of the mothers loosing their children. Bomb after bomb blast echo across the landscape. They are so loud my ears are rending me deaf. My heart trembles. Bodies lay on the ground, some dead, some injured. Those injured are in need of help. Hatred has stained the hearts of many. I lay here, along with the rest of the civilians on the path way.
There's so many questions on my mind. Why is this happening to us? Why are innocent civilians being killed? Do I have to be rich and famous for my voice to be heard?
As the sun goes down, night falls. You can hear whispers of words from those who have been lost. Bodies lay on the ground and a stream of blood flows. Those injured become weaker and weaker, calling in need of help...
Life fades away.

Our walls
white against white
decorated with jasmine flowers
that have witnessed everything.

They've seen the french
speaking the language of love
with weapons of destruction in their hands
carrying our nation's sons
six feet under their footsteps
stepping on honor's history forever.

"Ya worood al yasmeen"
with pearly white petals,
and bright green stems
I've watch you grow over our house
year after year
hanging high and low
gazing at the loss below.

I am now far, distant like a stranger
the homeland has put smiles on our faces
that glow in albums of badly taken pictures
that will haunt my path across oceans.

One day, the heart will ask for home
and I shall listen to it
as it yearns for the sweet scent of jasmines.

My grandmother's house once filled with love
now emptied
her biggest fears coming to life
pictures hanging on the wall
ghosts of love so short-lived
but remind me to tell her
that she is not alone
there are flowers like angels watching from above.