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.
