War© Poem by Roann Mendriq

The Father gave His sons the land,
He hoped and prayed they'd live in peace,
And He could never understand,
when their fighting did not cease.

'Stop your fights! ' He wept and pleaded,
But His pleas were all in vain,
They ignored Him, never heeded,
causing each other untold pain.

'You are brothers, beloved sons! '
He cried untill His voice grew hoarse
and was drowned in sounds of guns
that split the land with wild brute force.

The Father's land dripped red with blood,
He grew silent, numb with grief;
He knelt upon the blood red mud,
Beside with sorrow, beyond belief.

Then as the fighting turned to wars,
that rent the earth and reached the sky;
A shout rallied round without a pause,
He heard their brittle battle-cry...

The Father's face grew ashen bleak
to know that He had been betrayed;
His loving voice grew dim and weak,
He whispered then to those who prayed...

'If you must fight, you can't be mine,
For bloodshed stills the soul divine;
If you must fight, then bear the blame,
You will not fight...not in My Name'.
©