Did you meet in Damascus?
Did you greet at the stalls
and meet in your homes,
all safe in their walls?
Was there never a time
when your people weren’t here?
Did you meet in Damascus
and sing?
Did you meet in Homs
where your buildings were tall,
where the foundations laid
were the surest of all?
When the children jeered
and the guns came in,
did you meet in Homs still
and pray?
Did you meet in Aleppo?
Did you gather as one?
Did you watch as the armies
burnt in like the sun?
Were your family called kaffirs
and your friends sent from you?
Did you meet in Aleppo
and weep?
The Consolations of Writing 