A mothers silent tears drip
As a father tries to remain stoic
A miniature coffin lowered
Into cold, hardened ground
A white teddy bear left
On a slab of grey stone
With a chiseled name
And a few harsh numbers
1996-2001
A young wife weeps
With a child in her arms
Rifles fire in a salute
Into the dismal sky
Flowers are left,
And pictures of his newborn
That he never got to meet
The wife is told
we thank you for your sacrifice
Silence reigns
Over the mass grave
Of mangled remains
Victims of religious hate
Hundreds of children dead
For what their parents believed
Somewhere someone is crying
As the soldiers say
thank god that group is gone today
A young girl screams,
Seeing her mothers pale tone
And the tub of red water
needles littering the floor
A ***** family secrete
Finally comes to a peak
She grabs for the phone
Fumbles over numbers
*911, what's your emergency?
All deaths are important. But it is often the ones that are least noticed that cause the most pain. Everyone is touched by small children dying of illness, everyone knows the troubles of family's left behind fallen soldiers, everyone mourns victims of genocide. How many notice the orphaned child of a drug addict who killed themselves?
These were origanally seperate poems I had wrote that I put together. I might try to condense and shape this into a sonnet and send it to my uncle who publishes them.