Friday, December 23, 2005


Children’s oblivious frolicking in the street,
The cubicles in the market replete with wares,
Vendors beseeching people in the crowded square,
Customers foraging for bargained provisions,
The smell of food permeating the air,
Clothes and trinkets crowding the shelves,
None of which portends their unforeseen fate.

A faint drone above whispers its omen,
Children’s eyes frozen in fear,
Recognizing the approaching scourge above,
As the drone becomes louder announcing its mission.
Seconds later screams and wailing replace idle banter,
Debris from the cubicles litters the laneway,
Holes become monuments to those who vanished,
The innocence of children violated again.

Wanton destruction’s unremitting journey,
Leaving unanswered questions in its path,
As to why such vile deeds are accepted by so many.
The seeds of social progress so desperately needed,
Have failed to germinate into a communal flower,
Overshadowed by the corrupt temperament of man,
Resulting in the fleeting death of children,
Whose only sin is their place of birth.


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