Hadi Atallah

Standing in the door

Trapped

As her people were trapped

With anxiety

And fear

She settled in her chair

Snorting small ones

And as the slaughter went on

She looked at her watch

The chorus of poets broke in

Gibran the heroine

And I the cocaine.

Her feet

Creeping to us in warning

Toe nails worn out in sapphire blue

But her mind and her will were now set 

Her thoughts now in a trusted pattern

She was from the future

…Her eyes now squint a little looking at you