Yassin's Poems


Every morning
The first news I hear -
Another beloved peshmerga
Is murdered.

By noon
I used to see helicopters
Terrorizing the children,
Cutting the heart of the village,
Preparing it for the invader.

By evening
Our world is bleeding.

When night comes
We find out who is disappeared.
We collect the bodies
To bury before daylight.
For us this was “normal life.”

This Land is forsaken.
They are coming between
mountain and snow,
farm and farmer,
student and teacher,
baby and mother.
You see every single hour
The funeral of separation.

1988 by Yassin Aref

January 31, 2008

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