I wiped blood off a dead child's face
this morning,
Between 'Was that one egg or two? '
And 'Pass the butter, dear.
Bullet speckled walls
Bled gray, stucco dust
Onto a geography lesson
Forgotten on a green tiled floor, while
One lone tennis shoe,
Tipped sideways lingers by chalk outlines
Drawn by trembling cop fingers
Would you like
Another bagel, Honey?
Or just a refill on the coffee?
Toy soldiers
Scattered by a pitted
Face as the child now grown
Tries to stop the nightly torment of
Shadowy figures
Taunting from a
Broken whirl-around
One bullet does it.
Machine guns rattle like a woman in labor
Answered by a babe's shrieks
Fading quickly as I
Lean to start my car.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a poigant yet tragic scenario which you brought to life, , , , it really leaves this reader with the impression you were there, , , , ,