A Deeper Silence

I only saw it through a video,
Those children suffering, their
Tears drying on their cheeks
As their breathing is stolen
By their own people, the same
Men they were taught to call
Father, uncle, brother.
Some scream and others
Are whimpering, shaking.
But some are already silent,
And I cannot even imagine
What sort of pain caused
Such hopeless, such willingness
To just stop living, to stop
Hurting. But why them?
Why the seven year old
Sister, cradling her little
Brother as blood soaks
Through her hair? Why
The father who lost everything
But himself, his own limbs
Intact as he rushes the
Remains of his only son
To the nearest hospital,
Begging the doctors,
Pleading a case that was
Already lost, as the bomb
Had hit, and his boy lay still?
Why the three toddlers
With bullets imbedded in
Their chests, their hearts,
Their eyes still open,
But no longer seeing.
Questioning why they
Were chosen to live in
A world that had lost its
Love for innocence?
Why the mother all alone,
Supressing her grief in
The corner, covering her
Face as the endless trail
Of women just like her
Continues to rush through
These wards, clinging to bodies
That lay limp in their arms?
They are nameless, but they
Wear the same expression
Of disbelief, one of confusion
And utter defeat, their mouths
Clenched shut because no
Sound can express the
Hurt they are feeling.
No words can describe
The extent of their losses.
There is no answer good
Enough to justify these
Questions. And there is
Nothing I can do! Nothing
A child can do but watch
In horror as her computer
Screen portrays what must
Be scenes from hell itself.
Why? Why them? Why can
She sit there comfortably,
Warm and wrapped in a
Blanket that isn't covered
In blood? Whilst children
Even younger than she is
Lose the fights they chose
Not to be a part of? Why
Is injustice destroying the
World, as the silence of
Her room surrounds her,
The roof above her head
Not burning with jet black
Smoke, that engulfs and
Chokes and steals the light
From once youthful eyes.
Endless faces in a row,
Frozen in the moment they
Chose to let go, the rattle
Of guns, the only sound they
Can remember, as their lanterns
Of hope, that their mothers
Had given them, the remaining
Faith they had clung to
Are quickly put out, and they
Are thrown in a much bigger
Much hotter, coal fed, furnace,
Of ideology and radical thoughts.
Why are we sat here, just reading
Articles, just watching videos, just
...writing poems about a world
We pretend does not exist?
A world we only hear about
Through censored reports,
Numbers and statistics that
Give no respect, no sense
Of memorial nor identity to
The countless people who
Had lost their lives. There is
No flower laid for them, no
Grave dug to be marked
By a marble stone, engraved
By words that their mother spoke.
They leave this world as part
Of a figure, stated quickly
By a news reader, who knows
Not the facts, nor the extent
Of the suffering that she
Is broadcasting to nations
That seems to be indifferent.
What happened to humanity?
What happened to love?
And yes, we may sit here
In silent disbelief as the
Numbers reel on the screen,
As the news warns that the
'following scenes may be disturbing.'
And we continue to greedily eat
Our hot dinners, served on platters...
They are not disturbing!
They are heartbreaking.
They are haunting.
They are hopeless.
Yet, just across these
Oceans, a deeper silence
Lingers, and a different
Kind of hopelessness burns
Fuelling a suffering that
Thrives, fed by hardened
Human minds, who can -
No longer tell the difference
Between enemy and friend,
Between justice and cruelty,
Between right and wrong,
Between life and death,
Corpse and child...
Can we at least sit down,
In a deeper silence,
And dedicate a moment
To the child whose future,
Whose heart and soul,
Has been torn in two.
Who would have given anything,
To be as lucky as you.