Let the children play their games

Before you turn the world to cinders,

Before the blue skies choke

With the plumes of your anguish

–

Before your waves of iron

Drown out their sweet songs

Let them soar feather-light

Above the carnage you bring   

–

Leave them out of your war cries

Your frontline sermons

Let them spiral for the sunlight

From the labyrinth you’ve blazed

–

Let them have their day

To till the charred and broken earth,

To mend the unseen scars

On their small, smoldering hearts