Ashes Over Damascus

The skies once blue, now roar with flame,
Another night, another name.
Syria bleeds — and none reply,
While missiles paint death on the sky.

Two days gone, yet fire remains,
Ashes fall like bitter rains.
Damascus trembles, torn and bare,
Its silence choked by smoky air.

Mothers clutch their young so tight,
In shattered homes, they pray for light.
The world looks on, but turns its face,
Another war, another place.

No warning came — just thunder loud,
That turned the ground to dust and shroud.
The targets marked with cold disdain,
But children’s screams still stain the plain.

What justice lives when peace is dead?
What law permits this trail of red?
A sovereign land, its soul betrayed,
By bombs that fall and hopes that fade.

O Palestine, O Gaza's kin,
The same storm finds your blood and skin.
The same hand writes on both your skies,
With fire, fear, and unheard cries.

Yet still they stand — the brave, the true,
With broken limbs and skies so blue.
They build from wreck what war destroys,
Their hearts defy the warlords’ noise.

So speak, O world, don’t let this pass,
Don’t let them write in blood on glass.
Raise every voice, let silence break,
For Syria’s soul is still awake.