How 2 Stop a Middle Eastern Genocide - 2

Various forces come together to enable the Yazidis trapped on Mount Sinjar to escape ISIS

1. I am the United States

Trucks with machine guns placed on the cargo beds come to a stop
The Yazidi refugees stare in alarm from Sinjar mountain’s top
From the pickups, the black flags of ISIS, in the wind, flutter
Black-army-fatigues-clad men disembark to the onlookers’ horror utter

The ISIS men, cradling their AK-47s, climb the narrow gravelly paths up the mountain
For the Yazidis on the plateau-like bed of Mount Sinjar, there’s nowhere else to attain
Some cower in fear, some throw themselves over, the edge, most stay paralyzed in fear
ISIS men keep climbing, ignoring the Yazidis smashing into the ground, as they get near

On the faces of trapped are writ large terror, panic, and even, resignation
Hundreds of thousands of them know they will soon reach their final destination
They put the children behind them in an irrational and futile urge to protect
Families say their final prayers using the last of the strength they can collect

The mountain’s quiet is shredded by loud continuous bursts of gunfire
Most have their eyes closed in prayer and of opening them again tire
Something is wrong: for the first time in a long time, they hear voices animated
They open their eyes to see ISIS being cut down to pieces as people cheer elated

Sand-colored Apache helicopters fire precisely, picking off one ISIS man after another
“America has come,” shouts a kid, who collected aircraft pictures, with a stutter
In a span of seconds, the paths up the mountain hundreds of dead bodies gain
The ISIS on the ground scramble to their machine guns and rocket launchers train
All eyes search the source as a loud, screeching whine fills the air
Explosion after explosion rocks the ISIS positions as the Yazidis’ stare
Men, firearms, and pickup trucks are thrown up, twisted, and to pieces torn
Sleek silver fighter jets rise drawing smiles from even the faces most forlorn

A loud rumbling sound permeates the air as appear huge helicopters green
Carried by two rotors, one at the front and one at the back, the giants are seen
As packages of food, water, medicine, and blankets rain down from the first cargo door
Hope recharges hearts; they pick themselves up and hurry to make space on the floor

There’s a scramble to get the supplies even as some urge others to stay calm
As more helicopters drop supplies, people wait and stay out of the way of harm
Hurriedly, they tear into the packages, and eat and drink
That they might just survive still takes a while to sink

Firearms-wielding Kurdish fighters come up the narrow paths steep
The Yazidis look at them with distrust; some are angry, some weep
These fighters were meant to protect, but they ran away
Without a single warning, to let them fall under ISIS’s sway

The younger ones, with unsteady steps, rush at them shouting
Women Yazidi fighters in army fatigues themselves in the middle bring
The sight is so strange that they come to a complete stop
Yazidis find they have now an army on the old mountaintop

They comply as the women Yazidi fighters tell them to get back
Then the fighters, all, take up positions to defend and attack
There’s a big space in the center left empty in which sleek helicopters land
Those near death’s door are taken to the helicopters and

There’s a clamor; everybody wants to get on
They think this respite will soon be gone
People are pushing babies; a couple into the last helicopter are thrown
Luckily, they are caught and with them inside, away the helicopter is flown

2. I am Yazidi

From the very beginning, in studies, I was no good
But in sports, above my peers, I head and shoulders stood
However, my favorite sport was an expensive one
But I wanted to make a career in it rather than just have fun

So, my father took me, and a pistol bought
To excel in the sport, I continuously sought
I was the best shooter for as far as I knew
Prospects like mine were forecasted for few

See sports had always been important in our household
My father was a football player; my brother on karate had a good hold
My father did not get far, but he was determined to see us rise
Some would say our obsession with sports was beyond wise

But all of that is to abruptly change
In Sinjar, true evil has begun to range
Ours is one of the first places to be hit
Rolls over like a dark storm, a unit of it
There is no time to resist, to fight
Cries and gunfire pierce the night
And then the blitzkrieg smashes through our door
I hear gunfire and see my mother drop to the floor

Six of them enter our compound
We are at the dinner table found
As their eyes finally alight on us, lunges father mine
He smashes into them, throwing them hither and thine

The first one gets up and aims his gun at my father’s breast
My father throws him afar with a roundhouse kick to his chest
Another picks himself up and plants himself firmly on land
My brother hits his carotid artery with the blade of his hand

He goes down sputtering like a malfunctioning scooter
I scramble up to get to my room to get hold of my shooter
I run up the stairs; with smashing, breaking sounds, filled is the house
I hurriedly find the key; there is somebody coming up quiet as a mouse

But I know of the house every groan and creak
I quickly unlock the cabinet to get the thing I seek
There’s a subtle noise behind me, and I quickly look back
A knife slashes my left eye from eyelid to eyelid in a vicious attack

I keep tight my clutch on the cabinet, as he roughly pulls me by my hair
Blood pours out my eye and drips down as he drags me down the stair
The pain is so intense that I can’t open my other eye as well
I have gone completely blind as far as anybody can tell

I am abruptly yanked up as I land on the bottom stair
The bang of a gun and my father’s anguished cry fill the air
My hand gropes inside and closes around the handle of my gun
I yank it out and shoot and thuds to the ground a dead one

Another gunshot and my brother’s pained moan
I shoot as I, imagining my brother’s state, groan
Another body staggers and heavily hits the floor
The knife stabs my body and shakes me to the core

The knife clatters to the floor, as aiming at the sound, I shoot through his hand
His other hand squeezes my neck, and I feel life frittering away like particles of sand
Pain has opened multiple fronts on my body; I feel the last of me ebbing away
“Will you yield to this scum? Fight like you always do,” I hear my bother weakly say

More than words, my sibling’s pain shakes the part of me that hasn’t departed yet awake
I shoot raising my gun to the center; with gushing relief, I feel the siege on my neck break
Blood rains down on me; I groan in revulsion, then his body falls atop and stills my groan
Bullets are fired at me, bullets that stop ere they reach me as they thud against his bone

Firing stops; I hear the swish of knifes and the creaks of their footsteps coming near
My brother is not moaning; I raise my hand from beneath the fallen body, as they jeer
In quick succession, I shoot at the sounds, I don’t know whether in anger or in fear
They fall down one after another like lifeless birds, and of all sounds, the house is clear

For a long time, I lie there while the vista around is pierced by intermittent gunfire
I muster all my strength and push him off of me; then I get up like a puppet on a wire
I scream in pain as I try to open my eyes; my whole body it seems is on fire
I keep wiping away the blood, brace myself, and try again and again without tire

When I finally open my eyes, I crumple to the floor and wish I had let them remain shut
Of all the wounds that I have, seeing all my family dead is the most debilitating cut
Tears mix with blood and keep streaming down my face
I hear footsteps outside, and I, to the rear exit, race

I jump on my father’s bike and start it in a kick
As the approaching footsteps make me sick
They scramble outside and cuss and shoot
As I ride away to which destination moot

I keep to the back alleys and paths narrow and barely passable
Abound machine-gun mounted pickup trucks with ISIS flag and label
I ride slowly, always checking for them before arriving in areas open
I take a long time to reach the highway, keeping away from the ISIS men

I stop, and in unbearable pain, physical and mental, helplessly cry
A remembrance comes to mind; a distant aunt lives in a town nearby
I wipe away my tears, start the bike again, and ride on
I feel extremely exhausted and feel I am too far gone

I lose consciousness and am thrown off on the highway
“The bike had slowed, the damage is light,” to myself I say
I get on the bike again, this time determined to stay awake
But before entering the town, I find my promise to myself fake
My eyes fall shut, I lose control and jarringly, smash into a pole
I am jolted awake and find the impact has taken too much of a toll
I realize this is it. I cannot get up, try I however much
I have used up the last of my strength, the fact is such

I finally heed the comforting oblivion’s call
I have resisted too long; time for me to fall
As I lived this short life, I die free
I say to the stars, “Witness me”

A wave of yellow and orange washes over me
On a bed in a rudimentary cabin, I myself see
The sun here is shining something fierce
I look to the windows; its rays my eyes pierce

I am covered in bandages, but, for the most part, I feel fine
I get up and step out, shielding my eyes against the shine
Fresh wind engulfs my body, and I close my right eye, relishing the sensation
This is not how I had imagined heaven, but this will do as my final destination

Slowly, I open my eye to see beige and brown mountain tops all around
I am the only person living in this heaven that I have fortuitously found
I explore heaven: steep climbs, narrow paths, green bushes – a vista unbroken
I run, I dance, I cartwheel, I laugh, I ignore the naked sun, an inconvenience token

I think of my family. I wonder if I will meet them here
I say a pray to Tawusi Malek, the peacock God, in fear
You see, I had never been religious, keeping to shooting rather than in his temple sit
I don’t want him to hold a grudge because of that and keep my family from visit

It starts to get late, and I feel sleepy, I start tracing my way back
After getting turned around a couple of times, I find the right track
As I come near the cabins, I see a peculiar sight and to my stomach, sinks my heart
I see open fires around which sit some 50 women, while many more all around dart

They speak in Kurdish, and laugh and talk of war
So, I was not dead; in fact, I was not even very far
As I pass them by, glances thrown toward me are few
All of this is strange; now I am unsure as to what to do

An older woman with a lean body, leathery skin, and prominent veins, comes to me
“You should rest. I need you to make a full recovery soon for we have a lot more to free”
I stare at her in confusion and open my mouth to speak
She puts a finger on her lips and says, “You are still too weak”

She gestures me to go and rest in the cabin I had found myself in
I finally understand that I am not OK. On sanity, my hold is thin
I am delirious and need to get better in a hurry
I get to my bed; joy has been replaced by worry

A couple of days later, I am woken up by the same lady
“You are not fully well, but there’s no time. Get ready.”
She lays down army fatigues on a bed and walks out
I get dressed and step out to hear to fall in the lady’s shout

The young women, in marching files, assemble
One of them yanks me in place, without preamble
And then we march in step to a plateau-like place
Our training begins like with time, we were in a race

I soon rail against all the marching, saluting, and shouting
The command notices and thinks basic rules I am flouting
But my Turkish Kurd supervisor chooses to stay mum rather than say anything
I am a wonder at shooting and karate, and my trainers, vocally, my praises sing

At graduation, the supervisor says to me, “I have a gift for you”
The others are envious seeing her speak to me as she does to few
She takes out her knife, a big ugly thing; maybe a punishment has come at last
Gently, she cuts away the bandage that has held close, so far, my left eye fast

There’s a scar running the length of my eyelids and inside my eye
Despite there being a scar, with my left eye too, I can perfectly see
“You will be leading this unit and will rescue as many Yazidis as you can
We, the PKK, won’t arm you lest the Turkish government seeks to you too ban”

To get arms, I am put in touch with the Peshmerga, the KRG government’s military wing
KRG, the government of the Kurdish region in Iraq, has finally come to approve this thing
Initially, they had misgivings that an armed Yazidi militia may to their goals counter run
But now is no time to think of such things when everything is about to come undone

We are independent, but mainly from the Peshmerga, we get our supplies and intel
We coordinate with each other, and in the heat of action, complement each other well
The Peshmerga reach a town and find massacred the entirety of the town
They relay us the route female captives have been taken in buses brown
I set up an ambush along the way
From the greenery, we enter the fray
Their tires are shot and the commanders killed
We emerge from the sides in the vista stilled

The battle seems won when their trademark machine-gun mounted pickup trucks arrive
It’s an entire cavalcade; the guns are trained on us and with deadly effect come alive
We quickly dive for cover as the bullets start tearing up the ground all around us
We return fire, but I know the battle can’t be won. I give the order to retreat and cuss

It’s a bitter failure. All those young women were almost free, until they were not
They will be taken to Syria or elsewhere and traded and by sick individuals bought
We could have prevented them from living a life worse than hell, but we could not
ISIS, with looted military equipment, seem invincible; sometimes, to take in, it is a lot

But even if we lose, we have to fight until the last of us are on their feet, brave or wuss
There is no other option. There is nobody else who is here. There is just the evil and us
There is no other life for us out there anyway: our dreams died with our dead
We just need to become the stuff of which nightmares are made, as it’s said

The phone rings, “We are going to mount a rescue operation on Mount Sinjar”
I think that from the Peshmerga commander’s head, sense has departed far
But habit has made me not speak until everything that has to be said has been said
“We will get weapons, expertise, and air support. The Americans are coming to our aid”

All of a sudden is pierced the smothering darkness enveloping my heart
The first rays of hope permeate; I find that I have raised my gun with a start
“We will be ready in time,” I say, in my voice, determination replacing desperation
As I cut the call, I find myself humming the words of a long-forgotten song in elation

“You said you were a friend, but you weren’t
You berated, betrayed, beheaded, and burnt
You imprisoned, abused, tortured, and hung
The songs of your cruelty you wanted sung

“A dark storm the day will sire
The sky will split and rain fire
For all you have done to us, my foe, a reckoning will come
Rest assured that your annihilation will be second to none”

It quenches my soul to see the mighty ISIS being cut down like sheep by American fire
As the roar of the jets fade away, the surviving get up in relief at having escaped their ire
They look at each other, some smile, and shout, firing their guns above, “Allahu Akbar”
Suddenly they stop as they notice that they aren’t alone like they thought they were

“Fire,” I give the command. We move forward and fire in coordination
In their eyes, swiftly, relief turns into panic and then into desperation
Pure terror is writ on their faces as they realize their opponents are women
No Jannat for them. No 72 virgins. Start running some of these shells of men

Some try to fight, some throw their guns in surrender, some sob, some even start to beg
We look them in the eyes and shoot them dead; a couple, I smash under my booted leg
Up on the mountain, as the last of the US rescue helicopters fly away
Mules are brought up to take the trapped Yazidis away from the fray

ISIS men take up positions in the hilltops surrounding
American Apache helicopters give the positions a pounding
Still, intermittent gunfire approaches as we cautiously make our way down
I see a vaguely familiar shape lying dead as we reach the bottom, and I frown

I turn over the body to see the face of the girl I had rescued from the bus
The realization that I did not reach in time for some, even after all the fuss,
Dawns on me, plunging my heart into sadness
All I want is to get far away from this madness

However, the work for them is only half done
Reach safety I must with the power of my gun
But treacherous and dark and full of ISIS men ahead lies the way
Thankfully, other Kurdish forces, like that of my mentor, are in play

3. I am Iraq

You know, there are men who always want more
Especially of interest is what others have in store
The leaders of China, Russia, Iran, and Palestine, today, are cases in point
Such a man in the Middle East wanted to himself the region’s leader anoint

He, also, was a man who always wanted more
Luckily, he had some crooked neighbors for sure
He positioned himself as the righteous and waged war
He found willing support from others and came quite far

Buoyed by his victories, he felt invincible and soon overreached
He waged war ignoring that against it the world had beseeched
The world lost patience and came to this neighbor’s aid
He was kicked back to his country, briefly it can be said
He was increasingly bitter, and the citizens he disliked, he tortured and killed
He railed against the world, and in consorting with terrorists, his hours filled

The world had had enough and decided it was no longer possible to, with him, reason
That he had large amounts of oil reserves went a-ways in contributing to the decision
A war was fought, a war that was quickly won
Watching Saddam Hussein hang was great fun

For the first time in a long time, real elections were organized
The Sunnis were out of power and soon began to be ostracized
A decade later, in neighboring Syria, a dark power tumultuously rose
It swiftly ate up territories, and to Iraq, a grave danger, it began to pose

The sectarian and corrupt government sat on its thumbs as ISIS into Iraq crossed
The persecuted Sunni tribes away their loyalty to the government in Baghdad tossed
Fallujah and Ramadi fell, but it was Mosul’s fall, the second-largest city, that rattled
Tikrit and Baiji also fell; the army was removed from Sinjar, as ISIS to its door battled

The Peshmerga, the Kurdish Iraqi region’s army, is deployed to the disputed region
The Yazidis and the Kurds were close and for friendship, there were many a reason
Suddenly, the ISIS is everywhere. They have US arms captured from Mosul. It’s a mess
We are truly fucked because we have only basic arms, and our numbers are quite less

The only option, as our commander sees it, is to quickly withdraw
“The Yazidis will be slaughtered. What they did to ‘kafirs,’ you saw”
The commander ignores my indignation and says that we are done here
“I will fight alone if I have to. The least I can do is warn them,” I say as they near

“You will be captured before you reach them,” the commander is rigid
I won’t be dissuaded. “You all can leave. My final goodbye to you, I bid”
“OK, have it you way,” the commander gives in. I nod at my friends and turn to go
Something metallic smashes into my head, and I feel, to pieces, my world blow

Scenes of carnage, everywhere I turn, I see
My friends keep exploding all around me
Rolling over my legs is a tank of the enemy
I pray that, of this nightmare, I become free

I wake up screaming to find my startled children jumping off of legs mine
My wife runs inside and tells the children to get lost. I reassure that I am fine
“I don’t whether I was dreaming before or am dreaming now,” I tell her
She smiles softly and tells me that a day before here my friends were

I am immediately worried for the Yazidis and feel wash over me anger’s bout
I mutter that the commander will get his rightful due soon for knocking me out
I get off the bed, locate my clothes, and quickly get dressed
My wife informs me that not to let me go, my friends stressed

I tell her that some important people, I had to meet
I get into my car and take the key from under the seat
As I pull out of the driveway, armored vehicles come skidding to a stop
Soldiers jump out. I am wrestled to the ground with the commander atop

I try to fight them off, but they pin me down
I feel handcuffs slide onto my hands and frown
“Seriously, you are arresting me?”
“Don’t worry. You will soon be free

The Americans are going to provide arms, equipment, logistics, and air support”
“So that’s how you got these shiny new toys you rolled up in. I want the full report”
“You will be very much a part of the rescue. Just let us the whole plan rig”
My “friends” knock me unconscious once more and throw me in the brig

4. I am Turkey

About a thousand years after the fall of the Western Roman empire,
An Islamic power rose in the East and started to spread like wildfire
It was abutting the Christian lands soon
For the Christians, in a way it was a boon

Their lands were divided and given to among themselves wars multiple
The lands contributed forces to form an army; it was a matter of principle
And then they clashed: the Crusaders and the Ottomans, year after year after year
These were forces which in the hearts of opponents of other kingdoms struck fear

But here they were equally matched. To an extent, their fortunes waxed and waned
But mostly, they preserved the status quo as swords clashed, and arrows rained
Millions lost their lives, but the boundary between the West and the East stood fast
For half a decade, the status quo remained, but a cataclysmic change occurred at last

The Islamic power, namely, the Ottoman Empire, joined the First World War
Its side, the Central Powers, lost, an event that was to impact wide and far
Animated the hearts of our people, the first stirrings of hope, after centuries of gloom
In the Treaty of Sevres, the Allies promised the Kurds their own nation, letting joy bloom

Turkey, whose army had been left intact, started a war
The Allied powers, it wanted to, from its territories, bar
It posited itself as a force against communism, but also got, from the USSR, military aid
It fooled the major powers; the other Allies did not come together to launch on it a raid

Turkey fought and defeated the minor powers occupying parts of its erstwhile land
The promise made to us fell and was carried away into oblivion like particles of sand
The Ottoman Empire, which had been headed by Turks, were once again our oppressors
And oppressed we were again, when Turkey had finally diffused international pressures

Like we were earlier, we were now, tongueless, from speaking in Kurdish, banned
We could not sing our songs; we could not engage in our cultural practices grand
Our properties were seized; we were tortured; we were killed on a whim
To Turk-majority areas, we were forcefully relocated; it was all very grim

Our Turkish neighbors, on our offers of friendship, spat
Many schools, our children were denied admissions at
To start our businesses, loans, we could not get
Further, they were seized at will; let’s not forget

Jobs, by the Turkish government, we were expressly not given
Our dreams, small as they had been, were once more riven
Buoyed by state propaganda, the Turks began seeing themselves as a superior race
Nationalist groups rose up; them taking pleasure in harassing us was soon the case

Amidst our various misfortunes, an armed guerilla movement was begun
The PKK rose to carve out a Turkish homeland with the power of the gun
Violent clashes with the armed units of the Turkish state began
Brutal government forces now the remaining Kurdish areas man

But we are never there; far away, arcane, and powerful is our base
On the Qandil mountains, of us, the military can’t find even a trace
All its modern reconnaissance capabilities there fail
The army dies quickly that comes to our forces assail

“Fascinating. I have to ask, was violence the only way?”
Those who seek peace with Turkey have to enter the fray
The Armenians were peaceful. Now they are almost all dead
“How do you cope? This brutal life can’t be good for your head”

The Armenians were taken on these marches in the desert
They marched without food or water, sweat soaking the shirt
“They had to march until when?”
Until they fell dead. Until then

The only language Turkey truly, in its bones, respects is brutality
Others are ineffective; it doesn’t get any kick from sentimentality
“The Armenians had been also known to indulge in violence
Those men are also gone, and all we have is history’s silence”

Why we will win where the Armenians lost, there is a reason
The Armenians who fought were few in number; we are legion
We are in Iraq, we are in Syria, we are in Iran, we are in Europe
As long as there is a single Kurd to cheer for us, there is hope

“But peaceful protests would not have got you banned”
The Armenians tried peaceful protests on Ottoman land
The protest leaders were picked up in broad daylight and shot
“Today’s Turkey is different from the Ottoman Empire, is it not?”

Sure. Let me tell you a story. For a decade, on the government, we inflicted heavy losses
We were embarrassing and crippling the army; deeply troubled were the Turkish bosses
They blockaded Kurdish towns and cities for durations of six months straight
They barred essential items like food, medicine, and fuel; such was their hate

Thousands died from starvation and disease, but the government did not care
20,000 Kurdish people gathered in Ankara to protest and their tale of woe share
Two ISIS men walked toward them, and their suicide vests detonated
This scattered the protestors pell-mell ere their voices had resonated

It’s common knowledge that the Turkish government and ISIS are allied
In the past, from providing them medical aid, away Turkey has not shied
They allow ISIS unfettered entry onto Turkish soil and have been known to buy their oil
Now Turkey uses proxies to kill protests so that its good name it does not have to soil

“I do not understand why it is so against the Kurds. You are of the same religion”
We are first and foremost Kurds. Our culture is forward-looking and led by reason
“While Turkey wants greater restrictions on women’s dressing
And to limit their role outside the home and hearth, is stressing

From the very inception, on an equal footing with men, we are wont to fight
We have our own language and customs; our festivals are such a joyous sight
The phone rings. I pick it up. I have to leave now, the ISIS is in Sinjar
“What’s there?” The Yazidis, abandoned by all. Time to fight a war

“But it’s for the Kurds, you are formed to fight”
We fight to improve all the oppressed’s plight
The Yazidis are our brothers and sisters, besides
“Well, I will publish all this, but I can’t pick sides”

I have to so that others can have the same luxury as you
“Personally, women brave as you, I have seen but a few”
I and my unit get into pickups and on bikes, and swiftly drive to Sinjar
We have been told to recruit, organize, and train Yazidi women for war

As we near the town where we are to start recruiting, I see a body on the way
Blood is oozing from her body and eye. Take her to the base, I hear myself say
Several days later, takes place the rescue at Mount Sinjar
We are tasked to clear nearby towns and villages in the war

Driven out by our mortar shells, they run shouting, “Allahu Akbar,” guns ablaze
We fire our AKs. Several fall dead, some of ours too fall in this battle we wage
The rest keep hurtling toward us; in balance is the strife
I throw away my AK-47 and take out my pistol and knife

Our position is very soon with the ISIS men rife
The first comes brandishing a gargantuan knife
I step aside his thrust and with my knife, streak his neck
Slim jets of blood erupt, and he staggers and falls a wreck
The second hesitates, when it dawns that I am a woman, for just a second
I step forward and lightly jab his neck with my knife bringing forth his end
Then they are all around us; I shoot one in the head and yank him before me
The knife of another attacker gets lodged in the body, and he can’t pull it free

I throw the dead body over him and shoot another knife-wielding attacker dead
As he emerges from beneath the body, with my booted leg, I smash in his head
Another runs over him and jumps at me, his knife poised to strike
I pivot and gore his torso; his entrails fall on me to my utter dislike

Similarly dispatch the ISIS Mujahids to the hereafter, the seasoned fighters of my unit
All around, we are stabbing, punching, shooting, kicking; like always, the foe is hard hit
By the end, we look like veritable devils; in gore, we feast, in blood, we shine
As the last one dies, I mutter in exhilaration: keep making my day enemy mine

5. I am Syria

Once there was a dictator, rather wiry and tall
Among his friends and family, he divided it all
The ownership of the companies, the winning of contracts, the positions in the army
The state was his private club, while the citizens, for lack of basics, were going barmy

The citizens had had enough, and protests broke out
The irritated dictator quickly to shut it all down sought
He ordered the army to open fire
Some did not obey, drawing his ire

Hundreds of protestors were dead
The soldiers who refused saw red
They formed the Free Syrian Army to the dictator’s forces fight
In Damascus, Aleppo, and Idlib, they warred to wrongs right

But they lacked supplies and weapons and were being pushed back
The government forces were well-equipped and went on the attack
From Russa and Iran, the Syrian government received support
In a dank, windowless room, in my bed, I read all this in a report

The Syrian government wanted to crush the opposing forces for once and all
Shells and rockets tipped with sarin gas and chlorine, on them, started to fall
On impact, the toxic payload was released; gray and white mists appeared in the air
Breathless, sightless men fell clutching their throats; it was a sight dreadful and rare

Hundreds were dead, thousands injured; many had long-term ill effects from exposure
The FSA could not deliver from Assad’s brutality; the people were desperate for closure
To the shattered and defeated people, a dark force revealed itself
It asked them to kiss its ring and pledge loyalty in exchange for help

It emerged from shadows and attacked like wraiths; the army’s morale broke
It was in the front, then at the sides, then at the rear, and now gone like smoke
It saw the divisions of religion, region, and region; then the soldiers could see too
The army fractured; many left to return homes, joined the dark force quite a few

The army forces around the Kurdish regions quickly fall back to assist in the fight
I read all this, close my hand around my gun, step down, and switch on the light
As, I appear in the open, I see the others, tens of thousands of them
They get in Humvees, MRAPs, and BMPs and drive with me at the helm
Kobani, Amuda, and Afrin have been given; the rest we will take
We near Derik; the ISIS and the army each other with bullets rake
They look at us puzzled as our cavalcade rolls into town
Then we open fire on both; they start dying with a frown

The wraiths (ISIS) and the government forces (army) give way
The whole of Western Kurdistan (Rojava) is soon in our sway
We know urban warfare, we know the people, and we know the terrain
We have what we wanted; from venturing into other areas, we refrain

But that’s not the final word on it. Our areas are not secure; the ISIS can come back
There’s a new development: the American-led coalition wants us to go on the attack
We need them on our side to get international recognition and backing
We also need to defeat ISIS, so we go to Ras al-Ayn, the city it’s attacking

Find the tortured, beheaded bodies of civilians and officers of the army, as we reach
Backed by US airstrikes, we fall like lightning, and the ISIS defenses quickly breach
The town falls; we move on to others: Aleppo, Raqqa, and Al-Shaafa are next
While I am still in Kobani, I come to know of the trapped Yazidis through a text

We immediately drive out, all of us; our entire base is now clear
We have gone a way when, in the sky, a booming roar we hear
Jet planes appear high in the sky. Syrian jets would have flown low. Russian Sukhois! They will say they were bombing ISIS, I say
There are whistling sounds as bombs rain down; explosions rock our base, and it goes up in flames, but we are out of harm's way

Relentlessly, we push to Mount Sinjar
And are assigned our role in the war
Escorted by the Peshmerga and female Yazidi fighters, the refugees will into Syria cross
Then get back into Iraq to go to KRG; we will clear the way ahead, or it will all go to toss

Various units of the YPG and YPJ (the female unit of the YPG) leapfrog to secure the way
As we come to a line of pockmarked buildings abutting the road, the ISIS initiates a fray
They pop their heads from a balcony and fire; we rake the building with a machine gun
To see them jump out in panic and drive away in their vehicles at the back is a lot of fun

The Yazidi convoy is coming. To pass the time till then, I get into the building ISIS left
Something there should tell me what they do while they wait, at which they are adept
I climb up the stairs and find myself in a room full of ISIS men with AK-47s trained on me
They put fingers on their lips and gesture me to disarm; there’s no other option that I see

As I, thinking swiftly, bend to put down my M14, I see the Yazidi convoy approaching fast
I pull a grenade’s pin, put it down, and yank an ISIS man in front of me before the blast
The ISIS try to retreat in panic; we are both thrown off the balcony, the ISIS man and me
I land on a pile of hay, the ISIS man atop; weakly, I push him off and a rag doll is all I see

6. I am Iran

Wonder if anybody told you. You have beautiful hair, I say with a clump of it in my hand
“You are one of the few to have seen it, you pervert. Faster can you, your thrusts land?”
This table is not the most comfortable, you know, I mutter in complain
Long as you don’t stop chatting up other girls, this is all you will attain

I know I am beaten, shut up, and push faster, though it breaks open the skin of my side
She moans in bliss; excitedly, I thrust harder until there’s only the delicious of the ride
We climax together; I shout in pleasure; she judiciously clamps on my mouth her hand
Aborted is my yell; I swiftly pull out and aim; on Khomeini’s photo, my sperm does land

She starts laughing. You will get us in so much trouble or worse, killed
As my cell phone rings and I listen into it, all noise around me is stilled
Without a word, I hurriedly put on my dress and leave the classroom
She says something, but it’s like my ears are numb after a loud boom
I ignore the greetings of my fellow students I pass at the university
I don’t even know who is under the burqa saying something witty
Even on normal days, I have to concentrate hard to know who is who
And that today is anything but normal is beyond a shred of doubt true

I jump on my bike and ride to the mountains old
Zagros is where hides the base of my militia bold
PJAK Kurds mill about in a cave with modern amenities equipped
They don’t pay me any mind until on a piece of wire, I have tripped

“Will you try to keep it quiet? This is not your university. Important work is being done”
Universities shape minds and futures. If you studied, you would know it’s more than fun
The commander ignores my barb. “What do you want, university boy?”
You know the Yazidis are now trapped on Mount Sinjar; don’t play coy

“I can’t spare any men. The Iraqi army may attack any day”
Then I will go alone, picking up a sack of grenades, I say
The commander looks at the grenades with displeasure. “It’s your funeral, genius”
I pick up an AK-47 and stuff magazines in my jacket pockets. You are not serious

“I am. A university boy has no chance of coming back alive after the ISIS he has met”
I will need a vehicle. You will get it back. On my death, you should not so easily bet
“Take from the cave near the foot of the mountains. The lookout outside has the key”
Good luck with mutual jerking off or whatever you do here. I give a mock bow and flee

I pick up my bike from outside the cave and walk to the lookout post; but he ain’t there
I find him asleep on a rocky overhang. Now he will give me a good pickup. It’s only fair
I turn him over, thinking whether I should report him if he gives me a lousy truck
His throat is slashed and is gushing blood. In my throat, my voice gets stuck

Then I see red berets with the IRGC insignia of two crossed swords in an oval border
The elite Iranian Quds Force. No wonder, we heard no sound, I think in quick order
One of them has his head just below the overhang. On the rock, quietly, I flatten myself
I have to do something, but my heart is thumping out of my ribcage; I can’t call for help

I don my helmet, quietly get on my bike, pull a grenade’s pin, drop the sack amidst them
I ride like hell over the rocks; explosions abound; a fire dragon leaps with me at the helm
As it’s just about to crash into me, I ride the bike over a cliff
The vista above is suffused with fire; on impact, away I slip

The bike in momentum is thrown farther below, tumbling weightlessly like a leaf
Explosions still rock Mt. Zagros when unconsciousness steals over me like a thief
I awake to find a boot shaking my face. “College boy, what you did, I really like”
I get up. For all that I did, I deserve better manners from you, and yeah, a bike!