Tribute to a 10 Year Old Syrian Poet
Ten years old, a Syrian boy approached me
In his tented world of pain
Announced with pride
“I am the poet of the camp.”
His parents, lit with smiles of delight
Stood nearby as he recited
Words I could not comprehend
I could only see and understand that all the
Shells barrel bombs bullets death
Had not extinguished nor even dampened
The bright and hopeful child before me.
All is not yet lost.