This poem is from a picture I saw in the paper showing 5 year old Omran Daqneesh after an air strike, covered in dust, none of this war his doing. The
pain our wars bring to the innocents, so sad, they just want to be kids. It is
my very first poem I ever wrote only took a couple of minutes.

A child covered in dust
sitting in a seat too big
for his little body.
So alone, so what happened
to me?
He just wanted to play,
and instead he is tarnished
of body and spirit and memories.
Memories that spread hatred
as that bomb spewed
hatred.
Memories that keep anger and
discontent alive, hatred of what
others are, or have or have been.
So much pain, yet underneath
that dust I still see those
eyes peering out of this dust.
Can I play, I won’t have my
brother anymore but can
I play?
Can I just be a child, a child
in love with the world who
wants to laugh, catch fish,
build with legos, play with
my stuffed animals, and have dinner
with my family.
In his eyes I see a glimmer of hope amidst
the despair…there is always hope.

Julie Roberts 08-2016