Thursday, February 23, 2012

A letter from Syria

Is it raining at your house?

Here it is cloudy, with a chance of shells this afternoon. 

We’ll take a walk in our rain boots by the red river down the street. 

We’ll return home and drink a toast to the future, to the memory of our 8,000 friends lost.  We’ll raise dirty glasses full of dirty water to our tired lips. We’ll feast upon our last two onions, kiss our babies’ cold faces good night, then fall asleep under the blanket of our collapsing roof. 

While the world watches weather reports, we’ll try to yell loud enough for you to hear us.  Perhaps the ground will shake a little beneath you if we all cry in unison.  Perhaps then you will turn off your weather, your music, your video games, and listen to us telling you that the rain here is different than yours.  Perhaps then your eyes will rain for us, and your lips will gently whisper, “I’ll pray for you, Syria.” 

And maybe then the forecast here will change.


Homs, Syria - Washington Post


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