And in our claim of love for life
What place the guns that kill
The guns that seem to never still
That take the child or innocent wife.
Children now left to scavenge
Surviving by their wits
No longer to live in joy or love
Who may grow wanting revenge.
Their innocence was blown away
By the bombs of a pointless war
They may well turn to violence
And bear the gun themselves one day.
And what does it prove
That one country
Can out-bomb another.
That in the blink of an eye
Someone can lose their brother
Their home, their family, their world.
A much loved dog lies dead
Killed by the shrapnel
That killed the little girl
Who was throwing it a ball.
Neither will now grow strong or tall
Amongst the rubble
While politicians in comfortable chairs
Decide their fate without such cares.
©Joe Wilson – Children seem less important than guns sometimes…2018