Tiny minds the magic see;
Ne’er hunger, rage or misery;
It matters little whence they hail;
From city strong or jungle vale.
Bouncy castles tethered fast;
Piñatas filled and gifts amassed;
Or bottle cap rolled through the sand;
Pulled gently on by tiny hand.
Though born to need, children don’t weep;
And through their naught, they somehow sleep;
A flashing grin comes easy, fast;
Though meager is their day’s repast.
Life is for all a lottery;
Richy rich, or poverty;
Health will find some straight and strong;
While for so many, much will go wrong.
We like to say ‘tis love that counts’;
A father’s hug, not his accounts;
A mother’s gentle caring touch;
Means most to baby, by so much.
But is that just a facile dance?
Uttered by those born into chance;
Who’ve never suffered, fled from war;
Seen tiny bodies washed ashore.
From distant lands I’ve watched them speak;
Equality, a word, a shriek;
Chimera vile, who must be slain;
Themselves, the targets of the feign.
For you who seek to kill that beast;
Listen to my cry at least;
The evil that you wish to end;
Is different than you think, my friend.
Three meals, a roof, the right to flee;
A simple word – opportunity;
That’s the thing, sets us apart;
From those who cannot even start.
So go, to feet that word a lamp;
I’ll see you soon, in distant camp;
Fighting there the monster strong;
You’ll find he’s been there all along.