Syria and Child by Giorgia Spurio at

Syria and Child

Syria and Child

written by: Giorgia Spurio



I’ve a crying
in my head,
in my heart.

– Where is my Mum? –

I’ve a thin voice
between the hairs and the hands,
I’ve blood
between the escaped magic stories
and the kisses of the Moon.

– Where is my Dad? –

I’m the little son
of the Sun and the Light.
I’m the little child
of the Dark.

Between my toys
and the bones of ghosts
there is my dust,
cement and the gift
of a bat.

I’ve a shout,
only scream,
but my voice is slim
and white,
it’s opaque
and black,
it’s a girl
picked like a wife,
little bride
of the Toad of the Fog,
Big King of small frogs
between forgotten clouds.

– Where is my home? –

Syria is a capsized sky,
between planes and angels,
between land and drops,
between demons and diamonds.

– TV, video camera, photographers… they haven’t tears. –

– Where am I? –

The dust wraps my legs.
The cement envelopes my foot.
Fear… It’s a monster that
eats and ingests my stars,
it grips my body, my stopped arms.

And the King of the Fog
has my smile,
and the King of the Fog
has my eyes.



Image: Art of Banksy

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