That was discarded by the events of a heinous crime.
An infant on four trying to crawl taken by hands
To touch the sky and kiss the stars.
The hands are carried by the wind like sand,
And the infant sits crying on a grave of scars.
The flourishing green grass of my home
And the nourishing seeds that roam
Desecrated and mutated by the Samum
Murdering my dear earth and her moon.
The bairn now drifts in the barren space
Next to a heart, broken apart, growing apace
To fill the empty light years of squally
And rupture in a supernova of melancholy.
Yazeed Alroogi is a university student from Jeddah. He sees writing as a fulfilling medium to pour out thoughts and emotions in order to decipher them. Follow him on Twitter for more of his work.
