I remember, a little child,
each tear, each fear, each rocket wild,
the greyness war would always bring,
how it stole all peace from everything.
I remember, in the cellar deep,
upon my mother’s lap I’d weep,
I was only two years old,
yet I knew something dark had taken hold.
Those stubborn, dreadful sirens’ cry
would fill my little heart with fright,
that old basement became our home,
where pain and tears were left to roam.
We never knew if dawn would rise,
what kind of morning met our eyes,
we lived on milk and biscuits then,
while hope slipped slowly away from us again.
We prayed that wars would cease at last,
that all the terror soon be past,
that we might breathe life’s gentle air,
but fear had settled everywhere.
And then it stopped, the sirens died,
yet many tears still have not dried,
and even now they fall like rain
from women marked by endless pain.
For war has taken all from them,
a child, a husband, wife, or friend,
some never found their way back home,
for others’ greed they paid alone.
And now that I am grown, I still
cannot accept, I never will,
how anyone can bear the name,
of “human” while they kindle flame.
Even those whose hunger, pride,
has left so many dead inside,
while innocent lives fall and break
for someone else’s cruel mistake.
I remember, though I wish I did not,
that pain in me has not been forgot,
it lingers still despite the years,
despite new days and hidden tears.
And every day someone decides
to steal a child’s peace, where hope resides,
to take away their joy, their light,
their freedom, safety, day and night.
Who is it tears smiles from a face,
who shatters childhood without grace?
No hero, no righteous soul to see ,
only a coward, endlessly.
