Fortified borders
Or divisive bricks?
Your border is my passport
No flights at checkpoint.
He is armed, I with stones
His eyes blind with veil;
to our common blood,
even more similar faith.
He is drunk on the blame game
Threatened by arab name.
But to look, I see within him
The fear that tyranny reigns on
- oh the shame.
When you stand, spent
Of artillery, adrenaline and rage
Open your eyes
For this bloody corpse
This dead infant,
Could be your cherub.
You are no different to me
Yet my fist holds my stone
and yours?
It beats within your chest.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten Children
Non-FictionA collection of poems, and accounts from the children of our world growing up with war
