Aleppo

 Once I walked these streets in the evening

As moonlight came sifting slow

With you, hand in hand.

The perfume of the night heavy in the air

The perfume of each other in our hearts.

Once we dreamt of the future together

And told each other how it would be.

That was then, before the storm

Before the future ended in an eternal now

Of destruction.

Now I lie in a ruined building,

Looking out over a ruined street,

Looking out over ruined lives,

My rifle in my hand, my eye on the scope,

Searching

For more lives to ruin.

There, behind the destroyed wall

Movement, a furtive scuffle,

My finger squeezes,

The movement ends.

My finger, my rifle, hate movement.

Your fingers, gesturing in the air

In the summer night

Like a dancer’s feet

Weaving

There is no weaving to be done now

Just unravelling.

Perhaps it was you that moved in my scope

Perhaps it was I who moved in yours.

We both moved in someone’s scope,

On a summer night not so long ago

Dancing.

I, you

You, me

Broken all symmetry

Who could have known dancing fingers in the night

Could weave a world so strange?

Copyright B Purkayastha 2016

 

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