So Many Questions

So Many Questions

And why, is the question I keep asking
The murders, the hunger, and the coffins
A child calls out for a mother
Once, twice, but no answer
She’s gone, I’m afraid to tell him
Afraid of the blame, not his innocence

So many questions I have to ask
Why did it have to be ashes and blood?
Why not a word of kindness?
The child calls out again
I reach out to hold his hand
He looks up at the sky and
I try to make him understand

Behind his watery eyes
Hope still ignites
Bright as a star
Alas, it had to be a fading light

So many questions I have to ask
Are we humans or not?
Aren’t we all made of flesh and blood?
The child yells, “Mother!”
And runs without a mutter
Without a doubt…

A voice calls back to him
The kindness in which is unmistakable
I turn around and
My eyes discover the unpredictable
A mother calling for her child
Running through the ashes
Like a lion in the wild

Silently, a man walks amongst the debris
Breathing death into the air
And hides behind a tree
I scream, “No!”
And run towards the mother and her child

I hear the sound of death flow
I close my eyes and anticipate the pain
A cry rises from behind me, claiming bane

The mother’s silent
The child’s quiet
Death claimed me a while ago
I didn’t even notice
And then,

So many questions I have to ask
Will it ever end?
How far will they go?
And to what extent?
Do they want to make this world a torment?
Or do they want us to submit and give our consent?

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