Anfal1 stopped us on the way to dating,
searched our pockets, tore the letters, burned
the pictures, locked the songs away from our
lips.
Anfal stole our school's "good morning,"
the neighborhood's "good eveing,"
"good night" of the cotton homes.
It snatched greetings from lovers' lips,
withered the flower on the collar of Mamleh's
songs,
crushed Sia Chemana in Kakemem's throat,
wrecked the playhouse of the little Khatuzins.

Anfal entered untimely - 
we were still eating.
A banquet of love had drawn us together,
Evening spread confidence like balm
on yesterday's wounds.
The night's affections whistled behind the 
window.
Suddenly the lanterns turned off,
the evening flew away,
the night screamed,
the sun said its last goodbye to the green
conifers
at the edge of the village.

Waie2, Anfal separated sticks from stones
toddlers from their babble,
trees from birdsong,
the sky from stars,
the village from the mountain,
the river from its murmur.

Waie, Anfal deceived the trees
set out to hunt the moon,
poisoned honeybees,
planted mines in fields and roads,
strangled wheat stalk.

Anfal said: Don't worry children!
It's just a trip and you will return.
Anfal said: We will picnic.
It chewed two green villages on the way,
burned our letters on the way,
set the pictures alight,
stole "Hello" from children's mouths.

Anfal lied to us, it was no picnic.
It was dark-land, just dark-land.
We were 182,000 stares
each unable to see the other,
but we heard each other's heartbeat.
Anfal could see all of us
but did not hear our heartbeats.

Anfal blindfolded us with a black cloth,
Grinned as it asked us:
Tell me children, what do you see?
We said: Nothing! Nothing but darkness.
Anfal closed the sky above our heads,
folded the earth below our feet.

Anfal separated us, lined us up.
It said: Open your hands, children!
With a wet cane, it delivered
182,000 blows to our palms,
and our fingers fell off. 

Afal filled our eye and lungs with dust,
separated sticked from stones
and everything from everything else.
Anfal said: Look children, what do you see?
We said: Nothing but the desert.
Anfal lied. We saw nothing but the desert
we heard nothing but our own heartbeats
as we died. 

Notes:

Anfal is the genocide campaign carried out against the Kurds by the former Bathist regime.

This poem was included in the 2021 VCE Literature examination in the state of Victoria, Australia.

This poem is featured in the anthology Language for a New Century available for purchase here.