Laura McDonald-Amurun

Bludgeoned Cradle

Down in the depths of rumbling waters,
A child-soul crawls this way and that.
It seeks its mother and its siblings,
And its father, if he is still there.

Enclosed in the gruelish murky darkness
A frantic fear grips its fragile heart.
Anguished tears never find its way down
For the chubby drawn cheeks are caressed by waters.

Up in the world of so-called men,
Men convene to decide child’s fate.
They chatter and banter over sumptuous menu,
Besides paychecks made out in child’s blood.

All the while, walls climb higher,
Strengthened with spikes that wring out child’s blood.
And fencing off child in its dreadful ordeal.
Its body yet, a target for gas and angry bludgeon.

And all the while, men convene, in endless impunity.
While child succumbs to the watery barricade.

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