Poetry Graphics 

This photo was taken in the back yard of home . The garden of my mother in 2012 . So how it looks on today when 3 of her children had fled the country . Does she still care about her beautiful trees and watch them carefully that no one should pick a lemon or grape before the season or the nostalgia to her absent sons had made her busy with the sorrow !

In this photo there I woke up to go with my the musician uncle who wanted to take his child to school . My uncle who I loved as friend and he was the source of spiritual power for me in many cases . My ideal man that I always talk to and share together the same trend . we had talked a lot in that while we were heading to the school . I remember that we were talking about being a lawyer as him it doesn't mean getting the money as to be happy because of helping those who couldn't pay the fees . it gives more than all money .. we were talking about the big houses in Mosul is not the result of one work even if you would had worked all your life as journalist or a faithful lawyer . we talked until we had reached the school and then each one of us had taken the same way as my workplace were close to the court were he used to work as well . we walked for one hour.

later in 2013 while I was in the refugee camp in Finland the news had come when I was informed by a relative that he wishes my to stand as my uncle has been killed . There , I felt as tiny as straw in the storm that I couldn't realize the speech ! But thanks to days that helped to realized that when I come back home , there will be no uncle to talk with and no such a beautiful morning that I had in this photo . there will be an musical instrument lute which is tossed in store , there the dust will tell the story of that body that turned to dust as well .. the number of resting dust on it as the number of departure .. The strings which have fossilized will never smile again !