An Answer in Syria for One Boy

An Answer in Syria for One Boy



Reaching for her torn doll,
three fingers remain, they tremble.
A blood soaked bottle is too far.
The lonely cry of a child
not heard round the world.

The mother cannot move.
Legs gone, clock runs down.
Unable to hold her child;
cut down from her arms.
Where is god? love? peace?

The son stands close
his dark wet eyes reflect terror.
His mother, sister
were just laughing with him.
He picks up a bloody gun.

Moving in a circle,
he will stop it all.
Frightening sounds of a sister
useless pain of his mother.
It must quit now.

Silence must be better.
Then he can think.


By Kathie Stehr
May 29, 2012