Silent images flashed on my TV screen:
a child, in rags, sat on a stone
amid smouldering huts, all alone,
his bewildered eyes scanned the scene.
His body shook, but not from cold,
fear and shock had taken hold.
His eyes met mine and in silence spoke,
I lowered my gaze, my heart broke.
He tried to weep, but no tears appeared,
tried to cry, but no sound was heard,
only his lower lip quivered
as his frail body shivered.
War came to his village and took its toll,
the Reaper followed close by, reaped all,
sparing only the boy who couldn't weep;
an eloquent witness without making a peep.