Poem: Guantanamo

I brought children into this perilous world,

Our lands set on cages in the mounds of earth.

The only battles I fought were in the dark room.

Authority figures, fluent in force, interrogate the Arab.

Numbers in orange uniforms fall towards heaven

As the bloodfruit bleeds, like open pomegranates.

Thousands of eyes hold the cruelty they rouse in my veins.

Those numbers had names and faces once.

I lost count of the tally marks.

Fall, summer, spring, and winter have passed beyond these walls.

This poem previously appeared in Stone Path Review, the Summer 2014 Issue, which can be bought here.

Sarah Nour