He had witnessed
the innocent kids
piled up
in a country
far away
where death
was commonplace
and no one
baked cupcakes
bearing the names
of the slain,
only keened
like maternal sirens
against the inevitable
moment.

He took comfort that
Back in the World
the children
roamed in safety
and grew plump
on promises
far from land mines,
shrieking Phantoms,
dangerous strangers
with barking weapons.

He did not,
could not,
foresee a time
when those
same weapons
would turn
their deadly mouths
on babies,
back in the world.

But the sins
of the fathers
circle back
to the world
and the bodies
of children
wear doomed grins
like death heads
at the karmic irony.

Now that illusion
of a last, safe place
is rent and torn
and there is
no longer a world
to go back to.

   mce