The first time we shun from the sight of it.
The second time we may pray.
The third ;some ,like me , may even get nightmares
By the fourth it becomes a common sight for your gaze.
You turn the papers in despair,
News of some killed, photos of many slayed.
You turn numb with each passing day.
Kids scattered like their treasured toys,
Dreams shattered , broken beyond repair.
A life hardly lived; a dream barely dreamt.
Some saved for a reason they want not.
Only to be shot again for their unknown mistakes:
To be born in their land; to be born under a name;
The colour of their skin; the faith in their
prayers.
The cries of hundreds hidden;The prayers of others
wishing to be dead.
The father, the mother and all kin besides,
The newly weds, the one-to-be-born ,all relation
awaiting a life’s ray.
All those see-you-soon and take-care hugs,
Farewell with
a kiss , alas! Returned in a coffin box.
They say the end would happen when the gods descend
from heaven.
Look carefully , oh foolish souls! Your graveyard
you dug when you bombed your neighbors’ son.
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