(Syrian Bakeries forced to work in the dark)
On the night before their Christmas
I parked my car and cried
Hundreds simply wanting bread
had been attacked in line and died
Bread for starved citizens
Was now the haunt for airstrike claws
Dropping missiles on families
furthering Assad’s hateful cause
How can a man lead a country
when he destroys ones simply trying to eat?
How is he in power after crushing
more than 60,000 under his feet?
Why is it that all is wrapped in gold foil, ribbon and bow
when more children, women, a COUNTRY
lie buried hastily in winter’s earth below?
Now the bakeries are working brave,
stealth and in the dark
Preparing and delivering this staple, to a people living stark
I’ve held my tongue in respect for the Holiday cheer
I’ve raised a glass to celebrate the coming of a New Year
I’ve passed gifts, sent cards, untied ribbons, cast a smile
But all along my soul has been broken far away in heart tug miles
Broken for those who hold up bloody bread amidst their hungry dead
Crushed for mothers who scoop up little ones gone, still embracing missile torn threads
Raging for the world who has forgotten in its busy pace
The people of Syria are still part of OUR Human Race
And if we are running, tire and want to pass the baton
And forget those running too, to whom shall we be able to pass it on?
Kindergarten playgrounds taught us to all be fair and share
Extend a hand, dust off a playmate fallen, to give back to those who care
But adulthood teaches a creed of a dog eat dog growl at all cost
Wolfing down our portion while others suffer, starve, and are left lost
Left working in the dark at a bakery
The cost of flour up to $30 a bag
Feeding surviving brave hearts
Whose confidence will never lag
Certainty with backbone that they soon, despite our apathy, will see
Their country, torn from a ruling maniac, will flourish again, YES! Syria be Free!
© ruth follmann