Third World Children Dreaming, Wide-eyed
But won’t come out to play,
Hop scotch with me on shifting sands
Won’t skip rope, won’t touch hands.
Innocence, in and out the dusty rhyme
Blameless, the First World story line.
Come pitter patter, pitter patter, Rain
On my shoulders. Chant ring-a-rosie names
Refugees, you hide, I’ll seek, imaginary games
A child is born to love.
Little boy blue, don’t shoot glassy marbles,
Buckle my shoe, Pray, pass me the parcels.
Pretty maids have you never heard the rhyme?
You all have to die before your time.
This little girl in ragged mourning
This mother’s stillbirth the wretched warning
This little girl forlornly dying
This mothers none but dead curls adorning.
Bewildered children waiting,
Thin anticipating.
Who stops you growing up so high?
Who promised a kingdom, Walled
Beauties of hunger, from all
Calamities peace, and refuge ever after?
Should little children Hush-a their laughter?
Who willed the whole earth,
When we tilled richer worth?
To Blessed children, the poor, the meek,
Begging they turn the other cheek?
Third World Children Dreaming,
Nightmares of children in distress,
Skin on bone you witness,
Each other’s drawn-out deaths.
Who Comforts you?
Who shapes your dreams?
Does He?