A Babe's Requiem Poem by Edwina Reizer

Wars are fought by babes with a gun,
fought by them but never won.
Taught to think that war is just,
to preserve freedom is a must.

So off they march to foreign lands
and soon they're mired with bloody hands,
praying that what they're doing is right,
shooting and killing both day and night.

While back at home we continue to buy
and let the flags continue to fly.
Reading the news, watching the scenes
not understanding, it only demeans

What human life is all about.
Why babes were born and how they've turned out.
Pointing the finger at imaginary foes,
forgetting to point at the white shirts of those

who plan these wars way in advance.
How do our babes even stand a chance?
They play with guns from the age of three.
Can't their parents wake up and see?

In foreign lands the parents do weep
watching in horror as their babes go to sleep,
never to awaken and breathe in again
the air in Iraq or Afghanistan.

How is it the babes of those in power
are not involved? In fact they do cower,
hiding behind the white shirts that lead,
never having to fear they might bleed.

Wars are not games that big people play.
The guns are given to the babes everyday.
No lullabies will be sung for them.
The song for these babes is a requiem.