From the poem The Eye in the Wound by Syrian poet Muhammad Al-Maghut (my translation):
"I planted, in the wound, my eye
So my destroyed house appeared
and near my rosy spear
I saw the head of Kulayb,
lightening the face of the camp
saying to me: Do not make peace
saying to me: You are obligated
Blood does not forgive
Will you pay my debt?
Sir..your money is the oath
Your blood burden the forehead
Your blood is our land
and the land will not be
orphaned with the children
Your blood said: who are we?
We escaped from the shroud
from the certificates of
the refugees
from the hands of sad liquid
and we entered time
I planted in the wound my eye
...sir, your love is deep
the tree of poverty deepened it
Hunger and nostalgia attest
and the shredded clothes
the stabbed and the square attest
your love sail in the years
and the fenced borders
Your love, alone, is trust
and with it
the sad one strikes"