i hear him the boy
God will avenge us from this oppressor
don't cry, it's okay, don't cry, it's okay
i want to tuck him into my belly
i am not his mother yet i wish
to hold him
the way he holds his dead baby brother in his arms
the only piece of home he has in the dust
the children the children the children
i cannot sleep
without seeing the faces of Syrian children
i can see them in the floating stars
that form from closing your eyes too tight
i want to tuck them all into me
i want them to set their humble feet
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