Massacre at Houla.
She was no more than 10 years of age.
He could have been a grandfather.
Young, old, women, girls, men, boys.
108 lives.
Now they are buried,
in hurriedly dug graves,
on the plains of Houla.
Killed by knives,
shot at point-blank range,
slaughtered, mowed-down.
108 lives.
Snuffed-out. Decimated. Taken-out.
108 lives.
As Damascus lies blatantly,
spewing forth untruth,
108 warm, dead bodies,
remain buried,
in hurriedly dug graves,
on the plains of Houla.
108 lives.
Copyright © 2012 by Afzal Moolla
Also check out my other wordpress website. It's a literary journal called Randomly Accessed Poetics! Submissions are open. We Publish continually. Lastly, Penhead Press's first publication: Randomly Accessed Poetics, Issue 1: The Texture of Words came out. If you're interested you can find it in the kindle store.
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