Skip to main content

Rare, These Children


Climb the walls of oppression! Run as fast as you are able! She waits on your bare footsteps atop the HeartH.

The Heart(H) thrums its answers beneath your questions of self…

Are they rare, these children born to war? Am I missing something? Doesn’t the worship of war and the worship of the warrior signify that our species has run its course? Fear is steering our ship into hell instead of Heaven. War is the ultimate murderer. It is the life sentence for the innocent and the guilty- And we wonder why our children walk into schools armed to the teeth with rage? Are you kidding me? It’s not the child. It is us, our warring. Stop…

What divides us? What has the other done to warrant witnessing their children’s blood splattered on the walls? What grave sin has one to commit to top the slaughter of innocent children, children ripped from the Mother’s grasp, parents shrieking, children’s howling scattered about the landscape?

O! War must come to an end! It cannot last for eternity, the eartH has other plans. The eartH will not have her death at the behest of man. We’d have to be complete fools to have imagined our vow to the eartH was optional- how long have we been doing this war after war after war after war after murder after murder after murder after rape after rape and pollution and dis-ease and famine and thirst? Are we not sufficiently weary of our failure to love?


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...
Post a Comment
read the poem

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
32 comments
read the poem

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem