Their cry vanished, peace has dawn now.

Later I heard, this meant nothing.

There was no one to lift peace flag,

If white meant peace, it was on them.

Few days later someone with veil,

Was out in sun carrying something.

Firm as she was, dodging fire balls,

She paced fast with a bawl in hands

Someone called out, “Go not that zone”

Did she not hear? She seems resolute.

Then she at last, throws her on ground

Her face touched ground. Was it a kiss?

“Did you fall dear?” I asked gently.

“No sir,” she said “my child fell here.”

I have brought some mushroom she liked,

She would kiss me when I served this.

[This poem depicts a mother who lost her little girl during a bombing in Syria. We see her carrying some mushroom,the favourite dish of her child,to the place where her child was torn into pieces.]