“For Justice all, or none to have,
half-measures will not matter
Beneath the sword of Damocles
our heads upon a platter
We fight so that the future sees
our chains, slave-forged, now shattered.
We’ve offered up our innocence,
ascending heaven’s ladder.”
The price of freedom comes not cheap
It’s why the village women weep
Sweet daughters and their native sons
Lie dead beneath the setting sun
Old age will never call their names
Nor will they play their childhood games
They gave their lives that we might live
No greater gift could children give.
For Allah gathers to His chest
The angels here we lay to rest
He carries forth into darkest night
These stars to hang that shine so bright
As painful as this fight may be
It now comes back to you and me
We have no children left to pay
The price demanded of this day
Oh, Sweet Liberty, our hearts succumb
To the constant beat of Freedom’s drum
With swords drawn high we heed the call
In battles pitched we give our all
Yet still we fear the sting of death
The drawing of our final breath
Immortalize our children’s names
Within a hot and forging flame
The Winter Bites My Bones 
A beautifully written Ode. Well done.
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Thank you for reading my work. You wrote in your “About Me” ….The world seems so much less big and intimidating when you know that you are not alone in all the issues of life. So, I say to you, “Hello”, my name is Dennis and you are not alone.
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Hello, Dennis…my name is Skye. It is a pleasure to meet you. And, yes, your work makes me feel so not alone….misunderstood….so, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
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You are welcome, Skye. It’s my pleasure to meet you online. I enjoy following your blog..you are a gifted writer…keep writing!
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Thank you, Dennis. I appreciate that more than you know.
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For a moment I thought the children in that photo were sleeping.
You made an excellent choice with that picture. The last stanza was painfully beautiful on its own, but pairing it with faces of real people made it unforgettable.
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It’s meant to be unforgettable. I was named Distinguished Friend of Syria, Poet Emeritus for my published work in Syria by one of the Rebel governments. in 2012. It such a tragic thing. 28,000 of the 90,000 dead are children. We should not forget. Thank you for your kind words, Lydia.
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