Bullet Proof Child ©
A remark on the massacre in Dunblane, Scotland
My own children are lonelier today, I expect
In the wake of such a tragedy
in the aftermath of bloodshed.
Where sixteen small souls were shot and removed
from this earth; a choice they didn't even choose.
The devil reared his head today, I'm afraid
but cringed at the evil on show,
and hastily turned away
from a man who so blatantly showed us
that belief in God will be suspended until further notice.
Then of course all too soon, we're over the moon
with ourselves, and our technological boom balloon.
But what on this earth will we really become?
We've evolved into God,
But a God with a gun!
And on the journey we took to heaven and back
did we stop to take in the view?
No! now it's all just a matter-of-fact
but oh! what a ghastly view.
My own children's mother is more afraid today
as she yells at her young to 'sit straight' and 'behave'.
And a thought enters her head as she slips on their vests
that evolution should have made provisions for bullet proof chests.
But she dresses her young and goes on regardless
regarding the world and all of its madness.
And her faith dissolves and she curses the sky
disguises her blessings with whispers of, why?
She kisses the forehead of a fragile child
And whispers her feelings to oblivious ears
a glint of perfection in her own creation,
Her own beautiful creation.