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Hugs

The fact minces my mind; I can barely bear it:
Right now, legions of children are being abused.
I yearn to write of villages and vistas and never quit.
But the plight of the children cannot be diffused.

The words curdle the blood, but must be heard:
Raped, beaten, mutilated, starved—left for dead. 
What crimes upon them have been conferred?
Why must innocence crush young lives with dread?

There is a hellish hole reserved for their thugs.   
Surely God has prepared the appropriate place.
Meanwhile, this very moment, grant them hugs:
Love, food, service—hailing the Savior’s grace.

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