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A crystal drop on the child face
who left the shack where mum would hide.
Alone in the streets of guns and race, 
nowhere to go amidst the smog of pride.

The dust of a land with thorns and sun,
along the routes to chase the kites.
The thunder tone of a tank and gun,
no milk no hug but hunger bites.

Go fast, go fast the soldiers come!
No joy, no play in their mental array.
Your age, you pale, the bush as home
to hide from those who’ll make you prey.

And when the darkness veils your sorrow eyes,
the trees will move and the shadow will fright.
The village has stars from nauseating fires,
a woman and her child forever immobile and tight.

Your dream of a milk and of a lullaby
soon red of fire and of greed for a peace.
A butterfly on your hand to dry
the tears of dread and the hug of a disease.

A thud in your heart as a van approaches,
your friends are there captive and beaten.
The lion got them as it fiercely encroaches, 
the chevron commands to seize and to listen.

Your feet to fly from the lion’s cage,
he puts  guns  in hands of tremulous leaves.
Your glance on the land of your early age,
your friends now transformed in life thieves.

An when the glance melts into dreams,
there they come the roaring lions.
The beasts and their breed to chase you along streams,
to bring your limbs into deadly riots.

Hiding is now avoiding the open meadows,
taking your life away from guns and slaughter.
A frighten child in the forest shadows,
when the silence is broken by a shot and a order.

Life has gone. It has gone forever,
a bullet has trespassed your chest and your bones.
“Mum please take me! Take me in the Heaven!
To hear from your mouth your heavenly tones”.

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