I’m sending a case of Mr. Matey bubble bath to the children of Aleppo,
So they can splash in soapy water, like my kids did, all those years ago.
I’m covering the case in bubble wrap, to protect it for the children of Aleppo,
You might think it daft to send bubble bath, but I did the same for the kids of Sarajevo.
I’m sending a dozen yellow rubber ducks too, to the children of Aleppo,
For a bubbly bath is no good if you can’t get all your duckies in a row.
And after, when the kids are all wrapped in snuggly towels, like mine, years ago,
They can pop the bubble wrap, like machine guns, those happy children of Aleppo.
I’m sending crayons and sheets of coloured paper as well, to the children of Aleppo,
So they can draw fluffy clouds, and what an F-16 looks like, when viewed from below.
I want to see what a barrel bomb looks like too, drawn by the children of Aleppo,
And Sukhois and chlorine gas, and all the other presents they’ve had, from their friends in Moscow.
And when I’ve posted the bubble bath, ducks, and colouring books, these gifts to the children of Aleppo,
I’ll do the same too, for the all the kids of the UN diplomats, just so that they know,
What a wonderful place that city is, and how lucky are the children, that live in Aleppo,
Even if their bedrooms are full of dust and their homes are falling like the walls of Jericho.
And I’ll slip in a note to the UN mums and dads, who in gilded halls with gilded pens,
Sign ceasefires and peace treaties, because they are such erudite wise women and men,
And I’ll say, your debating skills are a wonder to behold, but seriously, when
Will you protect those Aleppo bubble bath babies with more than a flourish of your golden pen.
And then, I’ll send the United Nations’ reply, back to those happy children of Aleppo,
Just like I’ve done before, to kids in the Congo and Bosnia and Kosovo.
I hope the postman can dodge the snipers, in that super power puppet show,
And deliver the complexities of global power struggles, to the children of Aleppo.
I hope for the best, but fear for the worst and maybe I should send more than Mr. Matey and ducks,
For it’s apparent to me that the diplomats and politicians don’t give too many fucks,
About the children of Aleppo, those frail bodies wrapped in towels, their skin still dripping,
With scarlet floods of warm, wet life; the short terror of their existence ebbing.
But thinking more, maybe bubbles and bubble wrap are perfect for those children,
So they may play and laugh and wrap their lives in layers that offer some protection,
From our indifference to the genocide and our abhorrent inaction,
In the face of what is nothing less than a UN facilitated, final solution.