500 people were shot, burnt, slaughtered, stabbed, mutilated, desecrated and humiliated in the massacre of Jadidat Artouz near Damascus. Children, men, women, physically challenged people, lovers, friends, families, foes, neighbors, all were slain on the altar of tyranny and bestiality. It is not the first, and it will not be the last. World’s eyes are gazing in dullness. One friend told me that after the massacre, she heard sounds of jubilations, and when she went out she saw the killers, holding whatever tools used put an end to many many lives, up to the air, to the sky, shouting like cavemen who got a kill, celebrating their ability to lessen the numbers of their future avengers. My friend told me that her heart was about to jump and keeps jumping violently till it shatters. I felt my mind will jump outside my head and keeps jumping violently till it shatters, for I can never fathom this bestiality in humans.
When massacres started in Syria, we used to cry our eyes dry through the long dark night, we scream, then we send our support and condolences to the survivors. Then we continue our fight. The sun used to melt our wings as we fly towards it, and every time those in the front fell, we used to land to lick our wounds and mend our wings that are made from wax, then we fly again toward the sun. But now, when those in the front fall, we don’t stop. We realize that they fall to make way for those flying behind them. The brave, they took the lead and sacrificed their wax wings, they were protecting those behind from being burned and melted by the sun beams before reaching and merging with it. So we don’t stop anymore, we don’t feel anymore. We just fly with silence. We, Icarus.