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War Child |
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Oh, God, this is not the way
I had planned to end my day:
Facing me is a
bright-eyed child,
Staring at me, tense and wild.
Time stops, the world seems calm,
But this
boy is a ticking bomb,
Standing there in dappled
shade,
Tightly clutching a hand grenade.
Does he fully understand
That he'll die if he
lifts his hand?
He must know to move will send
Him straight to a bloody end.
I can't let him
get too near;
If he moves, he'll trip the fear
Slowly building in my head
And I'll surely shoot
him dead.
Sweet Jesus, can't he see
I have
no choice � it's him or me,
I don't want to kill
this child
Dear God, he's starting to smile!
My hesitation makes him bold,
My whole body
turns icy cold
As his hands start to lift
On
its own, my rifle shifts.
Then he steps from
shade to sun;
In that instant, his life is done.
Another stone drops on my soul;
Suddenly, I feel
very old. |
By
Thurman P. Woodfork
Copyright 2006
Listed
April 7, 2011 |
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