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A mother rocks her newborn child
Born with disease and now covered with flies.
She looks out her window at a maze
of destroyed buildings
and deserted alleyways.

In the midst of this
destruction and rubble
a father, bent over double,
searches for his child.
He searches all day;
He searches till he finds them.

When will the war and fighting end?
You may ask everyone my friend;
The question has been asked time and again,
But even the smallest deed of love
Will further the coming of the One above.
For no matter how small the light,
It will never be smothered by the darkest night.

Carla Alexander, Grade 7