The wind bows his head in shame



See the tears in their eyes,
As the blood leaves their bodies,
They know that this is it,
They won’t be going back home,
See the question they ask,
Silently, yet loudly in their eyes,
Why, why did we have to die?
Why did we have to be at war?
There is silence as the wind,
Who has seen many things,
Turns his head in shame and rushes away,
Because humans never learn,
Never learnt that spilling innocent blood,
Is never the way.
On the ground lie toys,
That minutes ago were warm in children’s hands,
Now they are bloodied and broken,
A symbol in time of a conflict,
Of broken dreams and broken hearts.
That takes young children,
So innocent, and free of blame,
To meet their ancestors way too soon.

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Potentash Founder. A creative writer and editor at Potentash. Passionate about telling African stories. Find me at [email protected]