The Last Sleep Of Last Night

April 6,
Khan sheikhun,
Syria..

While the night was dark and quite, disturbed at intervals by the cricket chirps and the winds from the shores where once a mother's babe died. The harbinger was in deep contemplation, anxious and surprised.
The orphans, the newly wed widow, a lone father confined by crippledom, all were in sleep paralysis accompanied by terror like every other night.
And then there was also a nine months old doublets  drowned in a eased sleep, obscure of the happenings, obscure of this 'last night'.
Khan Sheikhun was already scarce for myriad reasons and today morning the province was piled up with the deadbodies of beautiful kids who slept their last sleep, accompanied with the living deadbodies of their mothers and the fathers holding them tight to their chest, lost in musings and the unstoppable tears rolling down.

Last night in Syria left me  confused and perhaps a bit troubled, though this was not new for me because this is the new 'normal' for me and the thousands of people still living here hoping for a better tomorrow. Each gone day tears us into pieces, a shriek shivers us to the souls , a death makes us cry blood. The taste of twigs and leaves is the only taste we know, the feeling of terror is the only feeling we feel, the colour of blood is the only colour that we see, the cry of people is the only sound we hear. The coldness of deadbodies is the only thing we touch...

This is my life in Syria, this is the life of thousands like me in Syria. We have stopped hoping and still we have a hope for a new dawn , a new beginning.

Hopeful,
A Syrian.