“Iys” that are not heard,

Vacuum sucks in the “Iys”,

And skies absorb,

Supposing “Iy” were code word for cry,

Eyes won’t see anyway,

Passers by come and go, yet hear not a note ring.

Hope, oh hope!!

Our sighs beam into thine smog-filled skies,   

Hear yee them,

Things before our eyes stoop and fall awry.

Exhausted, we eye skies and utter “Iys”,

Till breath runs dry;

And … the silence of “Iys”.

Hope spaketh:

“My friend; no, no, my friend”,

Then the oath:

“As darkness fears light,

Tranquility betrays the cacophony of falling bombs,

As empty minds aimlessly blubber,

and ailing hearts spew venom,

I shall dispel evil from thine midst,

land, usher in peace,

That, forever, will silent the “Iys”.

Khartoum, a city which name is confluence, two glimmering streams peacefully meeting and leisurely saunter through, shall shine and bathe in music again,

Filling the air with not smog, nor stench of desecrated bodies, but with The Song:

“I am Sudan, and Sudan is I”.

It was, after all, attempts to extinguish God’s fire of love with human mouths.

The Voice of God is heard un-mediated,

Make-believe believers are no more there to beguile; to beckon the innocent to buy tickets to haven, and cost is lives. With reason restored, Sudan is restored past where it ever was when most at peace.

No people deserve to suffer. Hatred, like all things human, must die, and soon.