I wish to find the golden promise of sunlight
it used to dwell on the faces of children,
whose only expressions were smiles in play yard fun
now, there are children living on the streets,
homeless and helpless – their tears unheard
some grow like weeds amid the gunfire, the drugs, the violence, the strife
and who wears the sorrow for where these children lay their head?
Or is it just enough to say, it’s not my problem to bear?
A child cries in the darkness of the night,
from being beaten, bloodied, torn
and somehow, we know no other way –
than to tuck our children into bed and say a prayer.
While we shelter our children from the storm,
we barely realize what future storm shall come, if we look the other way.
© Sumyanna 2017
Another fourteen line poem.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com