There’s a body on a mid-winter beach, again:
Bloated by sea water, battered by waves,
The skin an indeterminate grey, the DNA
Gives it away: stomach distended, flesh declined,
Soul departed, a package of hope left behind,
With seaweed dancing from her open mouth
That once kissed another, a mother, a lover.
Spoke words of comfort to the dying, bereaved:
Religion indeterminate, nationality left behind.
Look at the legs that carried the body
Over rugged mountains, across freezing tundra,
Over deserts thirsty, prickly with heat, across borders.
Look at the eyes which read the newspapers, scanned the phones. 
Read holy books, consumed erotic poetry and letters from home.
With a heart that was broken by war, death and disease
she gathered the strength to begin life all over again.
That grey mush was a brain that loved to tussle,
Think and debate. Those bloated fingers wrote elegies
That were gateways to all the planets and stars.
In classical Arabic she argued that it was never too late
To begin life again, sometime, in beautiful Aleppo.

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