When The Children Cry


I have sailed across the oceans wide.
I have navigated the rivers and waterways of continents.
I have walk the roads of many countries.
I have looked under every bridge and in every town.

Yet, through all this I have found only violence.
In some I have found people starving.
Others were slaves to the powers to be.
And in all the Children were crying.

The children would gather with hands out.
Their eyes red and swollen.
Their  bodies tiny from starvation.
No, tears for crying just the look of death.

Some the graves were larger than the village.
Others there was no energy to see who was going through the village.
The moans coming from grass huts.
The dead laying on the paths, with no one to bury them.

The sound of death could be heard long before you reached the town.
The smell lingered for miles.
The images burned into your mind.
Each place would be better or worse, it did not matter. They were the same.

A heart broken.
A life taken.
A land nothing but dirt.
Nothing but dirt and huts.

Miles poles with bodies hanging from them.
Others they just lay there a blank stare.
Then the ones who would crawl, hand out stretched.
The sadness on the faces.

A lifetime gone within moments.
A heartache of a lifetime.
No one knows, and no one sees.
They just walk on by as if the paths were empty.

No, care or love.
No food or drink.
No medicine for the sick.
No shovels for the dying.

Just the cry’s of death.
Cry’s so loud it deafens the ears.
So vivid the heart breaks.
So terrible you hang your head and ask why!

So terrible you wish you could die for them.
They have done nothing to anyone.
There’s is not for us to judge.
Only that we help.

Blinders we see as they walk by.
Blinders as they buy land to build empires.
Blinders as it is only one less mouth to feed.
Blinders as they smile walking into the new building.

Hold high the head.
With the Blood of those dying.
Happiness for the new Company.
With death all around it.

And so man walks on.
They call it progress.
As another one dies.
Laying on the ground for wild animals to eat.

So repulsive are these words.
I have written them for you.
I have written them for them.
Will they make you act?
Or will you move on?

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