My Country is Dying

My country is dying.

Its once fertile land birthed the Phoenicians, a proud race of traders and merchants. They connected the ancient world through their trade routes and introduced many new, exotic items to different lands and peoples. Its philosphers and other cultured members of society enriched the ancient world with many legends and stories that live on today. They were also the ones that introduced people to the archaic form of the alphabet that we use today.

My country is dying.

The proud and mighty cedars that were once in high demand all over the world, especially in ancient Eygpt, are now weeping bitterly for the blood being shed. The blood of the once proud people that is now tainting their soil. As though in protest, some have stopped growing, stopped living, until this bloodsoaked soil becomes clean once again.

My country is dying.

People are living in constant fear, not knowing if they will return home at the end of the day or be killed by a random bomb or gunfire. The once busy streets and bustling social life are now dead. Only ghosts of days gone by roam the streets, wailing their grief in the form of strong winds.

My country is dying.

It is at the mercy of narrow minded extremists, at the mercy of stronger international countries who, at a whim it seems, can either sweep in and destroy what it left or can offer weak promises of hope and aid. The terrorised masses are left to pick up the pieces each time something violent happens. They try to live as normally as possible. Normal has taken on a whole new meaning.

My country is dying.

It is a victim that does not want to be a victim. It is fed up and disillusioned. Its people want to raise their voices and demand the right to live in peace. To live in a country that has seen precious little of peace in the last decades.

My country is dying.

The many different political parties, each blowing its own horn, are actively brainwashing its members, from the innocent newborn to the elder who has seen his/her share of rough times. I'm saddened to say that even those of my generation, university students who should know better, are a part of this. Universities are no longer a place of learning where all opinions are welcomed. If one dares say something that is different than the other's ideals, violence ensues.

My country is dying.

Innocents caught up in a fight that has nothing to do with them, and yet has everything to do with them. They shun away from what is causing them harm but will defend fiercely their homes, lives and families should anyone threaten them.

My country is dying.

Those who are suffering are crying tears of bitterness or are cursing in anger and anguish. My own bitter tears joins them, forming a river that is invisible except to other victims.

My country is dying.