The children look at the fire works in the sky casually
big hungry tummies playing with blood stained mud
half widows pull them beyond crumbling walls
where bread and water is traded for weapons
They play among burnt tires and bullet ridden bodies
running after the brightly colored cluster bombs
they sleep under the broken roof and air raids
haunted by the demons of approaching death
organized violence, political intercourse
my lai, pilot less drones, midnight knock syndrome,
little boy fat man, just war, gas chambers
wheelbarrows for ambulances, collateral damage
maybe we did not start it but how can we stand it?
time does not heal, happiness and peace is not real
if children are the future, they are suffering and dying
trivializing the gift of life and the cruelty of death
if it is the adult's game, how come the children lose?
Reshma Ramesh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-the-adults-go-to-war/
