no way out of ebla
planes overhead
fly day and night
going on forever
kneeling with daughter
elbows on bed
one candle casts a light
equipped to the hilt
martyrs and saints
march into the desert
daughter falls asleep
dreams of war drums
advancing up the street
escape routes collapse
from the dead air
I take her hand and run
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Very near, very immediate.
It’s a sad state of affairs. Bombs are not the answer.
It’s difficult. Allowing gassing with impunity is no answer, either.
That is so very true my friend.
Wow… that’s all I can say about this piece.
thank you
A complete story..thought provoking. Wonderful style& imagery ..
Thanks so much, Inga.
Ebla – a forgotten city, now representing a fearful, forgotten people. A parent and child poignantly portrayed in this powerful poem. Very well done.
Thanks so much. Mike. I appreciate you taking time to visit my place and comment upon this piece. JW
Beautifully poignant.
Thank you very much, Melanie.