CHILDREN OF WAR by Gary Jacobson © February 2006 namtour/childrenofwar.html War is all some children have seen Pain a fact of life Misery a constant Watching love ones come and go Die before the beast they too well know They think this barbarity normal Guns ... dust ... noise as usual Scenes heartbreaking Playing in a bombed out building Quivering atop the remains of civilization. These precious little ones Play somber games of war In the streets Among rubble once their home In paddies amid danger On sand dunes Rife with uncertainty Filled with deepening despair. Will they adjust to stay alive Their holocaust survive? Children sway in wars voracious wind like reeds Their very childhood bleeds Singing songs of annihilation malignant desolation Blowing in wavering wind like a rhyme Born in the wrong place, at the wrong time Doomed wherever winds may blow to follow Their pestilent lives hollow Inconsequential Illogical! O, the future lies in our children These precious little ones Who know too well The hard edge of death Searing pain. What will they grow up to be When all around them is hatred Unpropitious violence? These imposters Should not with children dwell. A childs eyes are pools of wonderment So big So innocent So full of hurt Where there should be delight Stagnant emptiness Their vacant faces Gazing with blank stares Unfathomable terrors surrounding them Horrors abounding in their grown-up world. Look deep into childrens souls As they look back in wide-eyed devastation Their world falling down around them Devastation all they know. What does their future hold? What lessons will they learn? How can they know love With hatred surging around them so strong? Will they die young never tasting the fruits of life? O what terror rests upon their tiny souls Eats at their hearts Aches in their bellies Tests their very being When they see loved ones killed Mother, father, brother ... gone Watching friends die in pools of blood Their caretakers silenced They see life as just surviving Without the essence of being. What is their purpose? To witness the slaughter From atop the rubble Of a bombed out building Tiny nostrils clogged With pungent gun powder The dust of destruction? Will they grow up but to repeat Scenes theyve seen Horrors theyve witnessed? Will their futures Peering through barbed wire Fence them out Screen them from the world by hunger Desperation Growing fear Filled with hatred Destined revenge to wreak Scores to pay back Vengeance to atone. Or will the children, sick of hatred... Seek peace! Peace? Will they ever see its face? Will they ever know Its sweet embrace? Will they ever feel The comforting of peaceful balm Hear its soothing calm To relax in the arms of peace. Will children even be alive To watch war rumbling by To see it To grow up with it To live ... to love Make their place in it? Will children make a difference Become killers, or wise sages Be leaders of men for good Or evil? Will a child’s sweet life be nipped in the bud Before life has really begun Without ever having dreams Much less, having dreams fulfilled Never to know tomorrows treasures? Will they be able to see Through fogbound nightmares Beyond the haunting mist of terrors? Do children feel the swirling hatred Or numbly take it in? How can children live in a place Molten in humanitys disgrace? Here, where fear replaces love The only thing showering down from above Children feel not blessings But tears in their eyes swelling Born in a world of hating Pain replacing tenderness Memories made by shock and awe Killing is the law. Will they just be one more of the tragic lost Gobbled up Swallowed by the voracious maw Of the ogre Wars bestial carnivore... Their only childhood friend? Who surrounds their days What toys ... what joys ... what fears? What apprehensions fill young lives Where childhood monsters are real? What if children judged us With much to say about injustice About being forced to grow up too quick About daddies to war gone away Horrors seen every day Their introduction to death Before they even started to live? Which does a child understand more The man preaching of moral imperative, Or the gun in his hand? Do children fear the gun ... or embrace it Do children just not comprehend it? O, I would take up the little children If I could Grasp tiny hands in mine Clutch them to my breast Protect them Shield them from this world of harms Stem hurtful tears Kiss tear-streaked cheeks. I would hug those who cruel war shackle Those whose terrible suffering too often Wars cruel quest ignores. I would love them ... comfort them Show them a better place... O, that I could carry them to safety Illuminate that great and sacred place Where children live happy Fulfilled lives In a golden palace... But where, God? Where? Open up your arms, God Here they come... Children caught in tempest and whirlwind Anguished in a swirl of hate Running from real life bogeymen No hope for them in this war With no place for them Hate wreaking violence all around them Killing all they love ... forever! I wonder if baby Jesus were born in time of war Would he understand? Would the plight of the children Bring tears to His eyes? Would he live long enough To plant the hope of the world? Could he save man From those embittered Will He show the better way Share His love for us all ... teach us to forgive?
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 23:10:21 +0000
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