Child Soldier
There is no longer rhythm
in mango groves
where trees now fruit grenades
Our children, now our thinking bombs
Guts, blood, brain, fly like shrapnel
Cut through flesh, stiff
compassion in rigor mortis.
Children die to recover
a madman's hallucination
People sleep and
hope to wake, and find
a nation beating inside a tomb
__________________________________________________________________
Luther Uthayakumaran
is a poet and writer based in Australia.
HOME