The War in Syria
His father didn’t sleep in his apartment.
The apartment was being bombed.
The absurdity of paying the rent.
So a colleague told me,
dark circles underneath his eyes.
He was working double shifts
in spite of his lack of hope, worried.
My father said nothing to this.
He is both a fascist and a soldier
who has seen the world.
But cares only about one thing:
Confronted with this,
conversation fell silent.
There was nothing to talk about
when it came to self-doubt.