In Damascus, people whisper when out in public. When a waiter arrives at a table, people stop talking…
Then he said what I kept hearing over and over on this trip: “Syrians cannot do this to other Syrians.”
(Janine di Giovanni, “Seven Days in Syria”)
In the days before spring burst in war,
some still danced and lazed in pools.
Some saw the lion on the prowl,
and others stood beside him.
The food was fine still, and the wine.
The poetry was rich; the fruit
was ripening on the trees. Yet some
saw wolves lurk on the fold.
The wolf was in us before we knew;
the lamb was our first and last chance.
The older, younger Noah’s son
bought sunshine with His bow.
And on the hills we see an ark
where lion, lamb and wolf lie down.*
Yet only when true peace is prized
and no-one hides from truth.
*after Ephraim the Syrian, “Hymns on the Nativity: Hymn 7”