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Boy-soldier
The rain is coming, pouring
Like an ominous spell of wind.
Get your raincoat, boy
The wringing thunder is calling
For your attention!
Have your gun at the ready
The dark cloud is calling
For your vigil!
Where`s the talisman
From your great loiboni?
Have it well around your neck
Their lead will turn into water
On your body!
They won`t harm the arm
That holds the rifle.
so the energetic lad runs wild
Through the thick forest he combs.
Smouldering ashes, conflagration
Tracks smell of rotting flesh
Vultures follow their trail
To clean the earth...
Shoots of green grass on mounds
Where once blooming flowers
Have withered prematurely.
He left his book with mama
As a token of tender memories.
For her bright son.
A stark and insightful picture, Milton.
And yes, i read in disgust and anguish at how War can stoop so low as to use children.
Then again, War is created from the selfish and uncaring side of humans.
Thanxs for sharing this...very much evocative.
Thanxs also, for visiting my hall and signing my g'book. Hope u had a nice stay there.
I am here , to read more ~
;)
Oh Milton! This is so sad. My mother heart cries for all the young boys being offered in war. May the world be purified from the search for power and revenge. This poem really touched my heart. Myra