13 Jan

I wrote this poem after I read an article on some small town in Africa and the horrors the people experienced daily. I don’t recall which town it was or what exactly was happening to the people, but the thing that has always remained clear in my mind, that I have found impossible to forget, is the picture of a young child standing in that place. He had ragged clothing that fit poorly and his feet were covered in dirt without shoes to protect them, but most clear of everything were his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes. Here was a child besieged and overwhelmed by poverty, terror, genocide, any number of terrifying things that I can scarcely imagine and yet his beautiful eyes were without fear, without terror, without hatred, without violence. He could smile and be merry and maintain his innocence in that terrible place. His eyes were like those of an angel, shining and free.

A child’s eyes,
Large and bright,
Curious still.
Not yet deadened by
The eternal sorrow
Of a life lived in poverty,
To see constant death
All around.

This child can smile
Not yet held grim
In the grip of despair.
His short life has been a hell
Not witnessed by those
Blessed beyond measure
Who do not realize
Their great fortune.

Yet he has not passed beyond
The threshold of innocence
Into the darkened passage
That leads to the greatest of all sins,
The depravity of man.
His soul remains unharmed
Still brightly shining
Not tarnished by the sins
He has witnessed.

This child is a glorious beacon
In a dusty, dirty field
Of souls beaten down
By oppression and misery.

One Response to “Child”

  1. ym Monday, 28 May 2007 at 3:53 pm #

    you have seen so much and it has touched your heart and soul love ya ym

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