Yemen,
your body lies crushed
beneath the rubble that was the home
where you were born
your blood floods the land
where sorghum supplied every need
your breath is a raging wind,
a gasp in the swirling dust
but despite all odds you cling to life,
you sing, you dance, you will not be denied.

Sanaa,
your towering buildings bow down
in prayer for the dead
the saila swells with your tears
Bab al-Yemen closes its eyes
blinded in dark nights more dense
than locusts devouring all they see
but as the bombs flash
hope shines through the alabaster
carved by your grandfathers’ hardened hands.

Yemen,
your past is like no other
your present is not of your doing
no matter how many bombs fall
how many families mourn
how long the world ignores you.
The smile of one of your children
will outlast all the vain kings in their palaces.
Your future will not be denied.

Daniel Martin Varisco, February, 2022

[Words can no longer describe the suffering inflicted on the people of Yemen; the damage is beyond comprehension, where only poetry can dare to speak.I wrote this poem more than a year ago, but it is as relevant today as it will be for some time to come. But I stress the last line for an amazingly resilient people.]