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Why have you stolen my dad and my birthday?

Updated on December 6, 2014
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Tijani Achamlal is an English Teacher in Nador, Morocco.He studied English Literature in Mohamed 1 Univ .

Balloons in

Multicolor

Frolicking

Aloft,

(Not far from heads)

Tied by

A rope,

Grabbed firmly

By a tiny hand

And the other tiny hand

Grabbed firmly too by a huge wrinkled hand,

Tenacity,

Tenderness,

Heritage ,

Swinging forth and back

Merrily

In a public street.

Everything seems fine

Weather, people and traffic lights

in the eyes of the child.

Sudden,

All of sudden,

Suddenly,

Tough hand slides its grip on the tiny,

Balloons spring up, away flying from the tiny,

Bullet in the chest settled,from a rooftop sent by an Israeli sniper

Birthday present to the tiny.

Weather changes to fog,

People to helter-skelter like chickens cut heads

Traffic lights to red and then to dry stick

Only balloons

Aloft the blue ceiling on the loose

Witnessing the crime.

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    • Frank Atanacio profile image

      Frank Atanacio 2 years ago from Shelton

      raw, emotional.. sad poem.. gripping

    • annart profile image

      Ann Carr 2 years ago from SW England

      This has such an impact. The contrast between the gaiety of balloons and the awful sudden tragedy; you've used it well. This says it all. Killing doesn't just affect the present, it destroys lives for ever after.

      Your title drew me in and you didn't disappoint. The image is real.

      Well done in your delivery of a powerful message.

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