Picnic on the banks of Paradise

People in Syria used to go out, during the summer, to gardens and parks, especially on Friday; where green lawns, blooming shade, and fresh pure water in order to get out of narrowness of cities and jam.

So, you could see grasslands filled with women, children, youth, and elders waiting Fridays or summer holidays to go there.

Probably they could leave cities to countrysides to breathe fresh air and the fragrance of flowers on rivers banks and between trees.

However, today in their spring extended through inflamed summer, they preferred the constant spring and the everlasting bliss because their look to life has changed.

They are now looking at reality in the basements of darkness, they preferred the real spring to the fake, they preferred zoom  of shots to the singing of birds, the chirp of birds, the rustle of trees, and the burbling of water.

They are showered by gunpowder, besiged by army instead of greeny hills, and replaced teh water fountains with cannons' mouths.

They are now spending their weekly picnics (Fridays) among tanks and armored vehicles, which they liked much and therefore they have made it a daily picnic.

In the past they were covered by tree branches but now they are covered by smoke and fire.

In the past they used to enjoy dew drops, but now the drops of sweat gushing on their foreheads.

In the past their saliva used to run down for the most delicious food, but now their blood flows on asphalt!

They came out knowing that they might not return, however they chose to go out perhaps they would return with a victory or in the company of angels.

They got out while their tongues chanting the melody of freedom and their hearts seek dignity and pride.

They got out in streets like a roaring flood until streets knew their foot steps and guided them to the road of spring.

They are sure that no matter how late spring is, its sun must one day rise and the yellow autumn leaves must fall because they really knew the road.