Some say that childhood is golden,
As it well may be
But I have seen the gold well hidden
And racked by infant pain unbidden
Through ghostly terrors in the night
Which only infant eyes could see.
What happens when a world of darkness
Encroaches on the angel’s land
And drives away the sun of morning
Without a signal or a warning
(With only symbols lost to sight)
Destroys the child in its hand?
This world is full of dying children
Who feel the weight of fear
Yet who, with courage uncomplaining
Turn with faces free of blaming
Only asking for the right
To speak to life with infant voices clear,
And whisper to the world a message
Recorded in the stars
That all a lifetime’s broken promise
All the undeveloped eagerness
Will find its way back to a world made bright
When human hate this world no longer mars.
And when at last the torture passes
And peace is found in death
Those whose weakened hearts are breaking
By the child will be brought to waking
When slow and dim their eyes see Heaven’s light
And from the other side they draw a golden breath.
This was an advanced writing by an advanced writer. There is really nothing in the piece to criticize. In terms of poetry, I may find it wanting, but it is not wanting in the things that matter. GW62
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poignant subject, perfect scansion - a professional triumph. S :)