This week’s poem inspired by an image from Aleppo, a very little boy, dirty and dry-eyed in an orange plastic ambulance seat. Perhaps you have seen it too?

Aleppo

Many tears shed

For one boy who didn’t cry

When the gore and dust

Mixed to mud.

So much compassion

For one boy who didn’t die

Amongst the falling of bombs

And the blood.

Please stop the bombing

Careless death leave their sky.

Your turn to weep when

Babies tear ducts have run dry.

Dhaka 2016