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Cry of the Innocent

I have not fully died

Go search the wreckage
Of the war shrived of cause
Find my shivering ghost
Singing dreams of peace
Weeping not for myself
But for you
Who lost your sanity
In the haze of power

I have been made
To shed blood
One among many children
Who never understood
The language of war
Who cannot fathom
Why flower fields
Become grounds of madness
Why innocence is slain
In the name of peace

My ghost waits
With other ghosts
Of children
Hear my cry
Meld in chorus
With theirs
Let the chorus
Of our sorrow
Lacerate indifference
And illusions of infallibility
Our death keeps us
Young forever
In the memories of those
Who will remember us
But we have grown old
The moment blood seeped out
Of our young bodies
We know this war you fight
More than you do

In our graves
We have kept our bearings

In your madness for power
You have lost it.

By Cheryl Daytec
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Cry of the Innocent

I have not fully died

Go search the wreckage
Of the war shrived of cause
Find my shivering ghost
Singing dreams of peace
Weeping not for myself
But for you
Who lost your sanity
In the haze of power

I have been made
To shed blood
One among many children
Who never understood
The language of war
Who cannot fathom
Why flower fields
Become grounds of madness
Why innocence is slain
In the name of peace

My ghost waits
With other ghosts
Of children
Hear my cry
Meld in chorus
With theirs
Let the chorus
Of our sorrow
Lacerate indifference
And illusions of infallibility
Our death keeps us
Young forever
In the memories of those
Who will remember us
But we have grown old
The moment blood seeped out
Of our young bodies
We know this war you fight
More than you do

In our graves
We have kept our bearings

In your madness for power
You have lost it.

By Cheryl Daytec
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
To A People’s Warrior Returning to Battle

The clarion call sounded; You are not ours
Despair’s hope owns you. You stand before us
Carrying all you own in a battered backpack
Well-worn clothes and your dream that the cries
Of penury in the masses’ favela will sojourn
The yield of peasants’ sweat will fill their plate
Mothers in an infinite line of mothers will stop
Burying sons and daughters in an eternal line
Of sons and daughters who perished while passing
Through the less-traveled road you keep treading
With resolute gait, overriding humps and thorns
Our solace - the road you took is the right one
No one gets lost; the road is light to dark paths

You leave us clinging to the dreams you take
For our desperate hopes mirror your own
Off to the far edge you go beyond this line
Across the landscape, hidden by dark clouds
Or, at times, by blinding rays of sinister light
With eagerness, there wait promise of safety
Blending artlessly with the threat of danger,
Like a drop of rain in a barrel of thick oil
Hope claimed you; your death is its sorrow
But a mother’s fear for your life is so heavy
That the promise of survival seems light in it
Who knows? You chose a life of uncertainty
For aspirations as certain as the light of day

Our words stammer through unsaid goodbyes
Later, we will stand on the verandah and wave
Till your figure disappears with the dusty road
For the moment let me hold you tight, so tight
It may be our last touch, before your final war.

By Cheryl Daytec
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
The Children of Gaza, Lying in Pools of Their Own Blood
(Footnote To The Gaza Bombings II)

They never heard
the soothing sound of music
In the Palestine air
Their days and nights were filled
With rattling guns
And muffled weeping of parents
They saw the shape of freedom
In the occasional flight
Of birds in their skies cast
In the gloom of violence

As other children waited
for Santa Claus’s gifts
The specter of their dreams
Levitated from their bodies
As they fell to the bullets
Of power that knows not
A terrorist wielding a gun
From a child playing
With a doll or a toy car

Their bodies have gone
To cemeteries
Or in rubbles
Beyond
The reach of shovels and hands
But their dream for freedom
Did not join them in the graves
It clings thick to the air of doom

Their last cries
Not comprehending the bloodbath
Their desire to soar free
Like eagles
Found their way into our pens
From ashes of carnage,
The dream will surge
Like time-worn slavery
Cutting loose from its chains
One day,
The world will know
Who The Chosen are among us
The lie we cradled
In ignorance
Will be clear as day
The graveyard full of infants
Shouts the truth

God would not arm His
people with bombs and guns
To slaughter the innocent

By Cheryl Daytec
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Footnote To The Gaza Assaults

The coppices and orchards became graveyards
Fashioned like desolation, their color is violence
Flowers for all seasons have been stunted, wilted
What sprouts from battlefields but odious hate
Whose thirst is quenched not by water but blood
Yearning not for sunshine but the yawning torment

Of butchered innocence, sprawled on power‘s dais?
The tarnished ground is drenched with forlorn tears
Of parents orphaned by babies who just outgrew cribs
Become ghosts probing the scruples of the world
Watching the gripping horror in imposed stillness
The grime of perversion thickens on its inutile hands

Silence cannot be golden when it is limpid sanction
Of evil randomly pushing buttons of death machines
Another great flood will not sluice the world’s guilt
Countenance in silence is as vile as pulling triggers
Of armaments trained to kindergarten playgrounds
Do not ask who answers for the bloodbath. Ask how

Silence can be drowned by the protest of conscience

By Cheryl Daytec

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