Child

                                           Are you alive?

                                         Or walking, dead?

                                           Are you born

                                          Without a head

                                          Or eyes to see?
 
 

                                         The war is ‘over’.

                                          A query in itself.

                                          But the big boys

                                           Have left toys.

                                           Toys that fired

                                           Killing shots

                                        That keep on killing.

                                        Unseen, seeping into

                                     Young bodies, young bones

                                         Damaging genes,

                                       Mutilation generations.
 
 

                                        These special bombs

                                      Have ‘tactical advantages’,

                                        The General’s delight,

                                       Too bad there must be

                                        Casualties of war…

                                          Even their own.
 
 

                                         Now children play

                                         And while they play

                                            They die.

                                       Sooner than they should.
 
 

                                        “Tactical Advantages”

                                        Plus Genetic murder

                                      Called “Winning the war”
 

Dawn McDonald
© March 2005

Music from Tablemaster

Graphic: Duranium 30mm shell