Their innocent tears un-resurrected their murdered parents. Under the bulleted rain of fire, the vexing orchestra of canons and missiles in the background, mercy was quite cruel to unsee their begging tears. Simultaneously, cruelty was quite merciful not to shoot their heads off, saving them both from the claws and canines of awe…
The beginning was in a room with a cracked ceiling and trembling walls…she was a little girl napping in her bed. A little boy he was, starving, voraciously eating the last loaf of bread. They were their parents, besieged by ghosts of dread.
Shall they expect a visit from death or go out and visit it by themselves? The soldiers left them no choice when they came to expel them. The father had no weapon but his shout. Their eyes teared blood when they saw their home turn into smoke and ashes. The boy and the girl clung to the father’s coat, as if it was their rescue raft. The soldiers ordered them to run under this infernal rain…the father took the boy in his arms, and the mother held on to the little girl…like fugitives in every alley and street…trying to avoid the heat…not for the sake of their own lives, but for those two innocent carried souls.
Suddenly, the boy fell to the ground…on his right, his father was lying, grasping onto his last breath. On his left was his sister stained by the mother’s blood.
The girl’s last shelter was her brother…they tightly embraced one another…two orphans without a shield in an unfair, blind, brute field.
Heaps of corpses…the headless, the torn, and the burnt paved the road for miles and miles…sinking in the bloodbath…
The two children were left alone, all alone, on that cruel path…under the bulleted rain of fire…
