Burying Our Children Poem by Chris Higginson

They call it stress, they call it strain
I must confess I feel the pain
Of standing by that open grave
For those that die who we can’t save
They younger be by far than we
But I can’t see why R I P
Should be the end of lives so young
That they descend down rung by rung
What is the cause what reason given
That Nature’s laws should be so riven
Will we soon find that packaged fare
Kills humankind with substance rare
Additions to our pure food chain
Turns red blood blue and addles brain
The cancers spread with sideways gait
Because our bread contains our fate
The poisons work so young may die
Does danger lurk in every pie
Or is it that the mobile phones
Makes radiation in their bones
Perhaps the sex they practice weird
Now more complex no longer paired
Could be the drug of modern living
Might be the plug that they are pulling
Where it began, that I know well
Where will it end? No one can tell.

Chris Higginson
2nd Provocative Verse