  | Lynda Tavakoli
I was born in Portadown in 1955 but now live near Lisburn with my Persian husband and two teenage children. I began writing short stories four years ago after joining the Lisburn Island Arts Centre Creative Writers' group. I am presently in the middle of writing my second novel. |
This Child of Mine by Lynda Tavakoli | A child of nine looked up at me And asked me why it had to be That foolish men should have to fight And cause destruction in the night And why was it that no-one cared Or listened so they never heard Their children’s baffled voices saying Is this our future now decaying?
A child of mine looked up at me And told me that she could not see How anyone could act that way Like people on the news that day To her the world was simple still That it was wrong to maim and kill Or let your heart with poison flow For others whom you did not know
My child of nine looked up at me And I looked back despairingly For words could never tell her how All hope would be abandoned now I wanted very much to say That there would surely come a day When all those selfish foolish men Would make our future bright again
But as my child looked up at me With hopeful gaze, expectantly I felt such awful sadness then Because I saw how it might end A never ending road of blame That taints us all and shows our shame Not even for our children’s sake We cannot some concessions make
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