''The sky....the sky just tore'',
Cried the little girl on the field.
Crying and crying and crying some more,
Feeling the endless pain that'll never heal.
''My sister was there, and so was my dad,
Were gathering apples in the season.
I should've known something this bad,
Could happen without any reason''.
''There were guns and men,
It was my mother they chased.
They destroyed that pretty glen,
And left my mother dazed.''
''They......they killed her,
They killed everyone here.
I thought being a soldier,
Was saving everybody near.''
''I'm going to find them,
Rip them apart one by one.
I won't rest until,
My job is done.''
~~ Wrote this poem to emphasize the effect war can have on a child.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryHIRAETH- (n.) A homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which never was. Previously: Songs Of My Lonely Soul. *** A Song Of My Lonely Soul. A Ballad Of My Heart Whole. A Story That Was Never Said. When We Find It To Be Dead. ...
