(The December 2011 crackdown on the Cabinet sit-in left many dead. One of them unidentified. No ID, no phone, just a wedding band)
There is an unknown face
Sleeping in the cold
Waiting for a familiar hand
To hold warmth, one last time
To feel human
To feel life, one last time
Before resting in peace
He sleeps
Unidentified
We know how he died
Not how he lived
Who he laughed with
His first word, his first kiss
Did he choose to die?
Was he in your line of fire?
It might have been you
Maybe another time
If I could hear his mother’s cry
Would that shatter the anguish?
Could her tears cleanse his soul?
But she doesn’t know
She can’t pray
She can’t mourn
She doesn’t know he was shot
Cold-blooded in a darkened street
As a rain of Molotovs burned the sky
And a hail of rocks fractured skulls
Someone misses his voice, somewhere
Remembers the traces of his face
Someone needs to be loved, by him
Only him, only he knows how
But no one knows who he is
And all that’s left is this ring
A bond – broken, torn
A life, incomplete
Martyr, unknown
Longs to be seen, one last time
By someone with shared memories
With shared blood
Till then, he cannot rest
In peace
Even if we never forget
*Amira Salah-Ahmed
