War Child Poem by Jade Leven
War Child
sits on the sidelines
the shots ring out loud
watches the smoke clear
pushes through the crowd
everyone's shouting
angered and riled
just a day in the life
of a war child
sees all the people
grieving and sighing
grown men and women
sobbing and crying
all of the bodies
scattered and piled
just a day in the life
of a war child
scans the horizon
no signs of life
just two hundred guns
a sword and a knife
where once fields of flowers
grew beautiful and wild
just a day in the life
of a war child
tosses some roses
six feet down in the ground
father, dear father
I wish you could hear the sound
of the bombs going off
as the white men smiled
save me from this life
as a war child.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 3:26:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Your poem explains what happens every day in many lands by many hands. A Poetic reportage of today's sad reality. War is Hell and peace must be heaven. Many unfortunate young beings exist in a miasma of chaotic instability; they consume, breathe, and dream fear, hate and hopelessness. Perhaps one day, we may find a balance. But for now, it's hard to take and if we are to survive, we must plant our stake. Intercession, intermediation? Be vigilant and pray for inspiration for answers to seemingly uncontrollable situations? An elegant solution awaits? I think not at this time, unless divine intervention deigns it so. Cy