Pomegranate Stained Skirts

A poem dedicated to Şingal and our stolen Kurdish Ezîdî girls.

Pomegranate Stained Skirts

Pomegranate stained skirts, ruby lined necks,
Ignored pulses, forced to endure on intruders beds.

Innocence stolen by the galloping black stained with crimson red,
As daughters were transformed into the living dead.

History of a vibrant land began to sway,
Like a burning peacock’s tail, colours were led astray.

Charred hope fled up a mountain or into a cave,
Death charmed both, amidst a cruel heat wave.

Wailing echoes, cry songs of a crippled heart,
As newlyweds were crushed and forced apart.

A foreign husband sworn in every hour,
Filling trenches of damaged wombs, unable to flower.

Profane shackles comfort her feet,
As lungs yearn for a rope,
An exit, twisted from dirty bed sheets.

The silent sphere, bursting in bites of doubt,
As humanity began to weep and pour out.

How the faith in their fickle neighbours burned,
As fathers waited for their daughters to be returned.

A selection of portraits of IDPs from Şingal