John F. McCullagh

(09/28/1954 / Flushing)


They were scattered, here and there.
Some were in pieces, some intact.
Some were strapped into the wreckage;
Others lay upon their backs.
These were staring, sightless, at the sky;
That place from whence they came-
They had been headed on vacation
when a missile struck their plane.
The Western World roars outrage
and Dutch folk weep their tears.
"Give us back our children
that your hatred scattered here."
"The world is filled with churlish men;
Who stole our children's years.
The innocents have been slaughtered
But no Savior yet appears."

Submitted: Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Topic(s): Loss

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Reflections on the sad events of this past week

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