“Mum, I can’t sleep, I’m scared.”
“It’s alright, mummy is here, nothing is going to happen to you .”
“Mum, please sing me to sleep.”
“Okay, Omran.”
“Hush little baby don’t you cry, everything’s gonna bealright, cause mummy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, I will give you the world, I’ll buy a diamond ring for you, I’ll sing for you and I promise to never make you cry.”
“There, there, honey, off you go to dreamland”
“God help us, if not for us at least for the sake of this poor little angel.” Tears streamed down her face as she felt hopeless to the fate her little son was exposed to, her baby boy, no older than four years of age. Born to eternal damnation, simply because he didn’t win the lottery of life. What was eternity compared to hell on Earth? There was no difference, time seems irrelevant when life abandons you, as if all the cruelties of the world fall upon you even though you are innocent, little children suffer the consequences of the greed of grown men. But this time it wasn’t only grown men whom they were angry upon, they felt as if God had sent them here and forgotten all about having created them. They felt betrayed.
“Mum! Mum! Where are you? Mum! Mum it’s dark in here, I can’t see mum” the last thing he remembered was the sweet sound of his mother’s voice. Where was it now? Where was his mother now? Where was his mother when he was in dire need of her? Little Omran lay there, in the dark, gasping for a breath of air. He heard screams, he could sense that there were other people in the vicinity; but his muffled voice was indiscernible amidst all the chaos. Omran did not know what had happened, he was unaware of the predicament he was in, all he understood was that he could not move and that he needed his mum. What else would a child in his shoes think of? So innocent, so little, a soul that would not even think of hurting a fly; yet, now he didn’t even know whether he was alive or whether the stories of heaven were real and God had sent a calling for his little angel. He felt a voice coming closer, suddenly the pressure on his chest was removed. The light shone bright on his face, amidst all the dust and the rubble. But where was his mum? This man wasn’t his mummy, this stranger was cloaked in orange with a mask on his face.
“we’ve got one, a survivor! A little kid!”
“Y’Allah, he is still breathing!”
Little Omran didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, he sat there, quietly . A living, breathing body, but his soul was lost somewhere amidst the rubble from which the angel in orange picked him up. The smile on his face was snatched away by that bomb which took his mummy. His innocence was lost. He sat there, he sat there as the glaring cameras gazed at him; and as he gazed into the camera’s lens, the world gazed back, but this time, he was just another headline in the newspaper. This time, all hope was lost.
“It’s alright, mummy is here, nothing is going to happen to you .”
“Mum, please sing me to sleep.”
“Okay, Omran.”
“Hush little baby don’t you cry, everything’s gonna bealright, cause mummy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, I will give you the world, I’ll buy a diamond ring for you, I’ll sing for you and I promise to never make you cry.”
“There, there, honey, off you go to dreamland”
“God help us, if not for us at least for the sake of this poor little angel.” Tears streamed down her face as she felt hopeless to the fate her little son was exposed to, her baby boy, no older than four years of age. Born to eternal damnation, simply because he didn’t win the lottery of life. What was eternity compared to hell on Earth? There was no difference, time seems irrelevant when life abandons you, as if all the cruelties of the world fall upon you even though you are innocent, little children suffer the consequences of the greed of grown men. But this time it wasn’t only grown men whom they were angry upon, they felt as if God had sent them here and forgotten all about having created them. They felt betrayed.
“Mum! Mum! Where are you? Mum! Mum it’s dark in here, I can’t see mum” the last thing he remembered was the sweet sound of his mother’s voice. Where was it now? Where was his mother now? Where was his mother when he was in dire need of her? Little Omran lay there, in the dark, gasping for a breath of air. He heard screams, he could sense that there were other people in the vicinity; but his muffled voice was indiscernible amidst all the chaos. Omran did not know what had happened, he was unaware of the predicament he was in, all he understood was that he could not move and that he needed his mum. What else would a child in his shoes think of? So innocent, so little, a soul that would not even think of hurting a fly; yet, now he didn’t even know whether he was alive or whether the stories of heaven were real and God had sent a calling for his little angel. He felt a voice coming closer, suddenly the pressure on his chest was removed. The light shone bright on his face, amidst all the dust and the rubble. But where was his mum? This man wasn’t his mummy, this stranger was cloaked in orange with a mask on his face.
“we’ve got one, a survivor! A little kid!”
“Y’Allah, he is still breathing!”
Little Omran didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, he sat there, quietly . A living, breathing body, but his soul was lost somewhere amidst the rubble from which the angel in orange picked him up. The smile on his face was snatched away by that bomb which took his mummy. His innocence was lost. He sat there, he sat there as the glaring cameras gazed at him; and as he gazed into the camera’s lens, the world gazed back, but this time, he was just another headline in the newspaper. This time, all hope was lost.
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