I made myself a dome of many colours
A dome of the shades of the rainbow
Painting an inviolate circle of grace
I made myself an exquisite dome of love
And unto it I gathered:
The dreams of the children of Syria
Severed from the golden mother tree
Yet still trailing clouds of glory
And unto it too I gathered
The unrequited young loves
Of the youths and young girls
Cut before the flowering
O, I made myself a dome of healing
And unto it I enfolded
The bereaved, the maimed, the homeless
And the broken shattered homes
Not I not I but Syria
Made itself a dome of the life to come
The peace to come
And the freedom to come
Alisar Iram , summer 2012
When I cannot bear to watch images of the dead and the dying and the mutilated children of Syria, I write poems of vision in order to remain sane.
©Alisar Iram
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