The theme for the latest Scribblers creative writing group meeting was ‘The Battle’, and member Ann Taylor contributed this powerful and moving poem inspired by the picture she’d seen of a small child curled up against a ruined building
To a child in Syria
Small child, you are weak but you must leap into action and flee.
Creep along and conceal yourself amongst the grey debris.
Seal yourself in and freeze as still as twisted steel.
Squeeze your eyes tight and sleep.
Dream some soft, soft dream of clear air and skies that are clean.
Above you, you will hear the squeal of bombs and the earth will scream.
You will feel the explosion’s heartbeat
And taste the dust as your meal.
But dream on in your dream of a free breeze across the blue sea.
You will smell a thousand fires’ heat
And hear death’s last plea.
But in your dream the trees are coming into leaf
And you can breathe and breathe and breathe.
Only later, when the silence awakes you and blood begins to seep,
Only then, may you scream and grieve
For the dream you had to leave.