11/22/2019 0 Comments MOURNING [REDACTED]YEHYA MAAD BARAKAT3rd grade high school
We chose our seats and had one room It was our city, a society we built Defining our desks with graffiti Cheat sheets to help a friend in need Untold jokes about the French teacher We were about 60 kids in a classroom Each trying to forget with lofty smiles We’re flies stuck in violence’s web The bell rings and we greet each other Telling each person good morning Even the new transfer Dawood We had our bullies and our soccer jocks Our nerds and our class president At the end of the day Everyone apologized and became friends There were no grudges at the end of the day We had nightmares we needed refuge from But we figured out a way to drive pain lucid Yasser beamed at how much his kidnappers wanted He beat Ibrahim’s amount, saying he was perhaps too polite Husam was so happy winning his friend’s bullet shell casing We held them out, our own trading card game Uthman never imagined the teacher who promised to fail him Left with no notices, the principal explained to cheers We learned to be ringmasters to feral beasts Bending them like a directed dream, we won Hope was the currency reigning supreme in our bazaar If one of us cried, we huddle together like mothers Some of us lost to her, the beaming gunpowder Hisham disappeared one day, no one bothered to explain His name became “redacted” in our roll call sheet Black stripe stretched across a human potential This is what we become, a censored child's dream Yehya still retells his jokes, in a poem he writes About how he told Mr. Salman to tie his shoes He was wearing a leg brace, the air was light and easy We breathed it and for once we were in a field There is a dead tree in our school If it were alive, we would call her, Um Saalam, Mother Peace The crows covered her in a funeral veil Mourning her daily, we learned love from omens We had no time for grudges School was our daily reminder We won’t let war win Until we become black stripes on roll call sheets Or we become birds mourning for the first time
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