What Happened to My Lebanon?

After an Article by Anwa Damon of CNN

The journalist writes down her city's face—
Beirut, who's seen more than her share of war.
The cease fire trembles in the hands of grace.

The smell of rotting bodies wrecks the place.
A girl snaps cell phone photos of the gore.
The journalist writes down the tear-stained face.

A chandelier still hangs in blackened space—
no children play and laugh here anymore.
The cease fire trembles in the hands of grace.

A building's stone façade blown off—no trace
of life but green—a couch on the tenth floor.
She notes the bleakness of the city's face.

The shell-shocked people value each embrace;
the call to prayer seems louder than before.
The cease fire trembles in the hands of grace.

Beirut's ten years of progress are erased,
though people smile, depression gnaws their core.
The journalist laments her city's face.
The cease fire twists the gnarled hands of grace.

by Harriet Leach