Child,
Who are these so-called militants? Faint brooding death?
Who are these soulless, wicked insurgents? Death’s reveling?
Freedom fighter? Might’s persuaded equilibrium?
Are the bombs dropped on homes empire’s reveling echo?
Is there cause to celebrate when a child’s body is shredded
At shrapnel’s forlorn behest; life swallowed by almighty throat?
Child,
Who are these militants? The wrath of God?
Insurgents;evil martyrs for a lost cause?
Are they the back of vengeance? The mirror held up?
Slipped devils wrenching Armageddon?
Is there cause to rejoice as the missile’s valor topples
Before mothers and fathers lunged in freedom?
Child,
Across the land into the mosques, into the sovereign home,
Wars snarled device writhes on the ground and upon the air
Beseeching men to volley detonation to ancient sacrificial carnage,
So who are these ferocious militants and soulless insurgents?
Death’s own reveling in power's thrashed persuasion?
The child, for lack of hue, answers not…
Copyright © 2006 mrp
