All these children should ever know
are streams of light in summer wheat
flecks of sun between waves of grain
and feather strokes on roaming hands.

All these children should ever know
are tails of clouds in opalescent skies
whether sought after or decoded
between pillows of grass in dandelion meadows.

All these children should ever know
are dreams of flight over moonlit cites
of the scale to mountain peaks downed with moss
and the spray of saltwater on dolphin-back swims.

Never should these children see
the look of fear on cadavers non-blinking
the trail of blood on linoneum tiles freshly bleached
or the glinting smile of a curved blade.

Never should these children feel
the tilt of a barrel upon their heads
the chill of a stare from a face they can't see
or the rumble of a cry within their throats.

Never should these children long
for days past sitting in empty playgrounds
for moments spent dreaming without aim
for the knowledge to come of what they did wrong.