Rudyard Kooistra on
6 hours ago
Invent a war.
Something bloody and fratricidal.
Lose an uncle to barrel bombs
a brother to secret police.
Three years in, flee.
Pack only what you can carry:
clothes, smartphone, children, cash.
Slip away at night, in silence.
Take your leave of the flat, bakery, office,
rubble-filled streets where the kids once ran
shell of the cafe where old men
drank qahwa, played she...
Monday 21st December 2015 4:59 pm