The silence grew,
the issue lay hid,
no one spoke for
a dying child.
—–
Each click of the fingers,
each moment in time,
they die of hunger,
violence or harm,
abused and broken,
sexually mauled
and their tears
don’t make headlines
while a fantasy does.
—–
Narcissistic natures
boldly claim the front
of every newspaper
violating the spacious
print.
——
Yet, it burns in my heart,
to cry out again and again,
its the children,
they are dying,
Where is the debate?
Where the headlines? That
thousands died just yesterday,
and their little bodies
cast coldly away.
—–
Where is the millstone
around their necks?
Where is the under –
standing reporting,
other than those
resorting to lies to
keep their power?
—–
Its the solemn truth
that today thousands
of God’s little ones
will die: for lack of a
world conscience.
