Death stalks the ruined Syrian cities and towns, death dances with the winds, the rains and the snow. It is fine with us. We are not asking you to shed teas. Only people with hearts shed tears. Compassiuon does not need prompting. But whatever you and I do or do not do, we are complicit in the crime of the century.
Death Stalks the Syrian refugee camps as the snows fall and the winter screams in the wilderness. Babies freeze to death and old men and women shiver their lives to icy nothingness.
She cried, extending her hands to a grim silent heaven: must I freeze to death?
What is a more fitting coffin for a child who died in the cold but an open grocery box and who should mourn him but another child in the refugee camp of children?
He inherited a sister whom he should now raise after the death of his family
And don’t forget the donkeys. they die of the cold too. They freeze to death