In the face of war and violence
And faceless men with guns and knives for their hands
I will stand exposed
And hurt and cry for the babies
Who will never be born and experience the beauty of this world
And cry for the babies who did get born and will never experience the beauty of this world.
Underneath its pain
Underneath its love
THIS is where I will wait
Wait for the guns and knives to turn back into soft embracing hands.
I will wait, but not in silence
For my weapon is this leaky pen
And the ink stains on my fingers
Are my only war paint
Like this, I will wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very inspiring. I love it!