In Silence of the Lambs,
Hannibal Lector asks:
Well, Clarice – have the lambs stopped screaming?
Another Syrian child’s image
knocks on the door of our conscience.
One of thousands.
Anybody home?
A Syrian child, unwashed, dangles from a chair.
While reporters shout,
he remains silent.
It’s just blood on his face.
It’s just dust on his shoes.
Just a wound on his skin.
He’s not aloof.
He’s not crying.
He doesn’t hurt.
Not his body.
Not his mind.
He can’t feel.
But he has a name:
Omran from Aleppo.
Where’s his mother?
One washes ashore, dead.
One sits unwashed, alive.
The photo of a small boy,
not a movie, begs…
Well, people- have the children stopped crying?
