chimes of a forgotten melody

Contempt grows with regret, Like unity does with remorse, Black - the genuine reminder, An intimate companion in strife, A band tied to every hand, A flag raised to muster oppression, A slogan in a white strip of cloth, Asking to continue the struggle.

Miles away I could write all I want about Gaza without making a difference, but when every word, written and spoken, unite, it may grant hope to a place which has become a contemporary battlefield. Part 1 Smell of Cast Lead poisons the air, Air crafts, one after the other, Pours hate- incessant, Onto her ruined womb. Niche of her Eden, Where colored kites flew, Now enfeebled by a holocaust, Of bombs and chemicals. Sewers pass lifeless bodies, Blood fertilize her fields, Kites never make a child smile, Flowers fail to transcend joy. Each mote of dust pray for mercy, Yet Gaza- the exhausted mother, Pray for a culminate strike, To cease her pain ever more! Part 2 Brother- valiant yet torn, Your words subdued, But awake with hope, When you feel the wave of heat, And relentlessly move on, A humanity is at your side, Whispering prayers, Sharing pain, Each night you stay stubborn, We are beside, Shouting your name, Crying your tears, Even when you fight o...

- Dedicated to my 'valyachan' who gave the subject from which this story was developed -   Tikrit, Iraq, 3rd July 2014. It was still early for the heat waves to wreak discomfort, yet, travelers and tourists nearby arid deserts of Iraq felt the Sun beating down with an aberrant and torturous swelter. God, alone and within a passive veil of dementia remained asleep in his makeshift apartment in Tikrit, an apartment built by five Sunni and six Shia Muslims. On another day, many prayers would have irked his ears, many mouths would have spelled his name and many thoughts would have asked him to appear. But today he disappeared into a world of comfort, into oblivious sleep, without problems of the world disturbing his slumber. **** Somewhere, not very far, Shamim Iqbal, a Shia Muslim, one who God knew as the 'lad who never prays for himself' began his daily routine. He sat in his prayer hall, overlooking Tikrit market, laid down his ragged prayer mat, and went...