The child’s twinkling eyes
Gazed neither at rainbows nor starry nights
Her eyes drooped
Witnessing chaos and rebellion
The child’s supple drums
Danced neither to chirps nor bedtimes
Her ears deafened
Engulfed amidst drones and rumbling skies
The child’s moist nostrils
Sensed neither a baking delight nor a simmering waffle
Her nose charred
Immersed in smoke and soot
The child’s sweet buds
Savoured neither lollies nor a candy
Her tongue dreaded
Feasting on stale and ferment crumbs
The child’s tender limbs
Knew neither a hug nor a cuddle
Her skin scalded
Showered by torch and splinters
Child
Unseen are your falls
When frolic dwells along insurgency
Unheard are your cries
When perishing billows rise
Unattended are your wounds
When homes turn rubble
Unknown is your existence,
When shrapnels diminish the child amidst war
With God given senses comes a child
In a hope to cherish the wonders of nature
Poor child was she destined with her senses
To see, hear, smell, taste and feel a man made world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
look what we've done..., a very deep reflection. indeed, beautifully crafted piece of work. well done my friend. :)