A Soldier's Mother
No, she mustn't cry out loud,
Every pain she must but hold;
No tear must make its way from the sides,
Of her pained, grieving, red rimmed eyes.
Into the casket she can't help but stare,
At the boyish, chubby face so fair;
And wonder why she can't seem to hear,
The sweet voice she once held so dear.
It is but a matter of time, she says,
To every person who tries to close the case;
Lazy boy he's always been but he'll,
Get up from his sleep when he's had his fill.
What will it take to convince,
A loving, doting, caring mother since;
How could she who could still hear her child cry,
Help but think her very senses lie.
Oh, this cruel, cruel war,
Is like unlit fireworks in a jar;
To protect it from every spark that flies,
The soldier is who pays the price.
When is this atrocity to stop?
When will the terrorists but realize;
Greater good is though what they hoped to gain,
Their humanity is what they've mercilessly slain.
Maybe one day the ball of gold will shine,
Onto an earth once more pristine;
Where no mother will ever grieve for her lost child,
And at no border will heaps of bodies be piled.
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