I didn’t raise my kids to fit into tiny graveyards

They didn’t raise their kids to fit into tiny graveyards

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I mourn
childhoods
nipped
of life
like flowers

I mourn
colours
of smiles
moving
like butterflies

I mourn
dreams
of sunny skies
not falling
drone strikes

I mourn
of losing
my self
becoming
a statistic
in a war
that I have nothing to do about

The children of the world
mourn
innocence
decapitated
over a landmine

Of mothers who mourn
each day their kids
don’t turn up home
to eat from the plates
at dinner

They didn’t raise their kids to fit into tiny graveyards

Children were born to sing, play and dream
not to remember the rhetoric of occupation and genocide
not to count the missing mates in their class
not to run away from fields – of landmines

As they lower
into their graves
they close their eyes
in the hope
that the world opens theirs

Our lives are meant to
be lived
not to be counted
as deaths.

2 thoughts on “I didn’t raise my kids to fit into tiny graveyards

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