this is us

we are the children of war
that came to us unexpected
 
 when the sun was shining through the windows of our schools 
 half ruined now
 filled with lonely torn down books
 and pages telling us about the adventures that we will never know
 about little girls and boys playing with wooden swords
 and pink ribbons
 about children sleeping on velvet pillows
 laughing in their sleep

we are the children of war
that came to us unexpected

in our sleeps
and shook our fragile bodies
as strong as the giants from our school books would have
but 
even they weren’t strong enough
to carry the weight of the war
that came blown in 
when the western wind
turned their backs on us
and send out legions of black crows
that would take out
the tired souls of our parents

we are the children of war
that came to us unexpected
 
we stopped looking up to the skies
when they turned red
and buried all the tomorrows in the grey ashes 
that looked like dusty waves of an angered sea
when they 
put to sleep the hearts of the buildings that were once our homes
where our mothers made masseah on Saturdays
where our arms were linked with the arms of our fathers
where our grandparents were telling us stories about their forefathers
when there was no death on the streets
when tomorrow would always come 
when we could run till there wasn’t any breath to spare
and our bellies were full of laughter
when there was no sign of steel dragons breathing out fire
onto our playgrounds
fields
forests
gardens
faces
hearts
when we were fearless 
carrying sweet dates in our pockets

we are the children of war
that came to us unexpected
little spirits forgotten by the grown up world