Poem 'For the Children of Iraq'

By Patricia Keegan

Washington International

 

Oh land of Abraham, and  Ur, where Moses rose

Between the Tigris and the Euphrates,

Oh land of Noah’s great flood.

Where once you sank beneath the waters,

And now you call again upon the Sky God,

The Moon God, but it is the God of the Wind

Who carries your voice across the world

To this new land,

Where deep inside the hearts of millions

A hallowed voice is heard.  It nags and nags and nags;

 It says, “Thou shalt not kill!”

 

Once the capital of the world for two centuries,

Baghdad looks faded now,

Burdens of weariness etched across her face.

But children come and go, and skip along in innocence

 To school, to dance to play,

While mothers watch and wring their hands in fear.

And mornings come and go, and still they rise

To put the coffee on, put on their shoes,

Then warily turn the front doorknob,

An opening to the naked sky.

Yet still they wait, the moments drag.

 

Six thousand miles away

Debating voices rise

In Congress, and in the streets;

YES, WE SHOULD BOMB IRAQ!

----NO, WE SHOULD’NT!

Unseen in this chaotic world is the glorious perfection

 Of the Iraqi children,

Their newborn skin, their shining eyes.

A tiny hand reaching for a father

To lift them up,

To view the wonders of the world.

 

For now, they are the fortunate

 With precious moments left.

For others, all was lost through deprivation.

Victims of sanctions, 5000 die per month, their fate

Carelessly tossed aside like plucked feathers.

 

 

And will we send our sons and daughters

To press cold buttons on laser guided bombs,

O’er hospitals, schools, factories, bridges and mosques

And think they will return to us the same?

Their minds, if not their eyes, will forever

Journey backwards  through the path of destruction

 Seeing bodies strewn in the lingering hell of half-death.

 

Oh Sky God, Moon God, Wind God, God of Abraham, God of Moses,

And all who have the power to turn the world away from war

Stop us, Stop us, before we hear the cry;

“Forgive them God, they know not what they do.”