As I fly and I swallow the salty water around me,
I close my eyes to avoid the burning:
Babies jumping to the sky in rage,
Afrin river sinking into the red dust.
Blood is marching through my head hard,
to stifle the screams of childless mothers
overflowing the boats nearby. Thank god.
As dark clouds approach us in silence
to drop olives on our heads, I fly and swallow
my life, irrelevant and free, for death is heard
only after the dark clouds have fled.




*Dedicated to my Kurdish friend Hussein Habasch, whose family is suffering in the bombing of the city of Afrin, Syria.