Bomb Shelter

Photo: BOMB SHELTER, by Katia Aoun Hage, on Red Lips High Heels' blog.
I walk down the stairway of oblivion
To where my body and soul have found refuge.
The water beneath me
surrounding me
crawls on my skin, fills my nostrils
with heavy damp air.
Water brought from the deep dark earth,
sucked up by rotating motors,
through cold metal pipes…
Touch with my bare hands
Feel the song of the earth reach my veins,
telling of a new dawn, as old as time itself,
rising through the minuscule window
locked behind bars,
safely away,
underneath the grounds…
Here below, life continues to grow
day after day
witnessed up close
with all its subtleties
so near…
The change is ever clear
of emotions drawn on the faces.
Seasons roll in creating space between squeezed bodies, mingled breaths and the sounds of love making,
in the midst of total despair…
When love is just a fading ray gobbled up by the darkness of the unknown.
And the sounds of laughter of a winning game of dice
When everyone’s life is tossed around by unseen hands.
A sound of joy that tears at the hopelessness of tomorrow.
A now that is full of life and can never be sure of its own existence in the next moment.
A cry of delight emanating from the heart of careless children,
defying the deafening cries of men,
remnants of men,
Who cut away at the lives of thousands
with blades of cold, senseless metal shells
killing…
destroying…
Ripping everything that stands on their way…
Sucking the life out of what is and would be.
Men crawling the face of the earth
While the rest of us,
Worms,
looking for a refuge
in earth’s womb,
In the mud that formed us,
the mud that created us…
Read the poem here: http://www.redlipshighheels.com/bomb-shelter/

I walk down the stairway of oblivion
To where my body and soul have found refuge.
The water beneath me
surrounding me
crawls on my skin, fills my nostrils
with heavy damp air.
Water brought from the deep dark earth,
sucked up by rotating motors,
through cold metal pipes…
Touch with my bare hands
Feel the song of the earth reach my veins,
telling of a new dawn, as old as time itself,
rising through the minuscule window
locked behind bars,
safely away,
underneath the grounds…

Here below, life continues to grow
day after day
witnessed up close
with all its subtleties
so near…
The change is ever clear
of emotions drawn on the faces.
Seasons roll in creating space between squeezed bodies, mingled breaths and the sounds of love making,
in the midst of total despair…
When love is just a fading ray gobbled up by the darkness of the unknown.
And the sounds of laughter of a winning game of dice
When everyone’s life is tossed around by unseen hands.
A sound of joy that tears at the hopelessness of tomorrow.
A now that is full of life and can never be sure of its own existence in the next moment.
A cry of delight emanating from the heart of careless children,
defying the deafening cries of men,
remnants of men,
Who cut away at the lives of thousands
with blades of cold, senseless metal shells
killing…
destroying…
Ripping everything that stands on their way…
Sucking the life out of what is and would be.
Men crawling the face of the earth
While the rest of us,
Worms,
looking for a refuge
in earth’s womb,
In the mud that formed us,
the mud that created us…

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  1. Thank you Ms. Katia for reminding me of my childhood ! Painful memories but at least I know what war is about and i teach my children that it is NOT the solution to human misery.
    Peace cannot be obtained through war.

  2. Love your poem…
    Powerful 🙂 Inspiring.
    Peace in the Middle East, hopefully one day. But it takes many to believe in it first.

  3. I have similar memories… shelters… during the 1980s. Beirut.
    And since, nightmares.
    i guess we cannot forget. The pain is here. Painful memories.

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