The Child’s Lament

Music surrounds the child’s lament of dawn,

since night brought flowers to his father’s eyes,

and weeping to the band of women on

silent streets in dark and sand swept skies.

A sweetened song, a sura, blends the day

with moments children wish to all be gone

and let the blood dry on the street and stay

as vivid paint, a scene one lets alone.

Who was the maker of the moments death;

the angry mind who swept away a face,

and left a child and mother without breath

to even pray in sorrow and disgrace?

A thousand, thousand such laments are there,

with tears that wet the earth like early rain,

and children look to heaven through the air,

that’s filled with singing minarets of pain.

Who was it brought this hell to earth this day,

and gave the flowers to the father’s eyes?

The child will look and look ahead and stay

committed to his mother’s cries….