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The Little Martyr
The military use of children takes three distinct forms: children can take direct part in hostilities (child soldiers), or they can be used in support roles such as porters, spies, messengers, look outs, and sexual slaves; or they can be used for political advantage either as human shields or in propaganda.
(source : Wikipedia.com)
In our lives, being lived at some corner of the world, we would hardly realize some of the cruelest realities which demean the very name of human existence. Using children as feeds to nourish the heinous ambitions undefined is a sin beyond any sin.
They have their right to choose their future and the path towards peace and prosperity.
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You would have known me as the kite runner
chasing the glitter of spun dreams in silk.
With innocence in sight and logic far behind,
I followed your steps knowing of no guilt.
I knew of a world where prayers came true
in the stories sung by my beautiful mother.
Where she lies now, I just don’t know.
With dust of evil convince, I lost sight of her.
You taught me to snatch from the destiny
as I was bound to be gagged and trampled.
In the omnipresent reality of our race,
you taught me to wear a soul crumpled.
Children of God, with guns of terror.
Who disfigured the purity you had?
A world indebted by your sanctimonious blood.
How the absurd victorious would be glad?
A Grain of God
Hunger is the want or scarcity of food which has been aggregated to the world level.
Of the 6.8 billion world population about 925 million i.e. 13.6% are hungry.
Poor nutrition plays a role in at least half of the 10.9 million child deaths each year.
Under nutrition magnifies the effect of every disease, including measles and malaria.
We need to give more than just a concern for the cause.
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The infected subsistence of hope alone
may not suffice to help me stand.
My prayers are null and I know of no God,
spoken of words so virtuous and grand.
I’ve begged for the mercy of fate itself
for a loaf of bread or the eventual end.
Excruciating mirages of empty anticipations.
Nightmares and reality thoroughly blend.
My resolve is still not shattered
but how do I face my children, dying.
Their helpless father carries them in ache.
On the pyre, burning alive, I see them lying.
How do I tell them stories so true,
of glowing peace and satiated needs.
He has seen cruelty of no reason alone.
Age five – how wrong were his deeds?
We are the same like you all.
Made of the same blood and heart.
Perhaps, I have paid for all our sins.
As humanity and sense drift apart.
