Child Soldier
I am but one.
One lost in the midst of 11,000
who share my plight,
Who share the burden of the long nights and the endless days
Of gunfire and carnage,
Of no one to turn to, no one to rely on.
A lost generation in the midst of a war.
A war that leaves no winners but only losers,
Scarred and riddled with holes
With the images of death
heavy in our eyes
Heavy in our hearts.
But who will notice?
Who will notice as we struggle
Under the load of guns we are too little to carry
Fragile shoulders bending
under the weights of memories
Taken from families who are ancient history
From villages that are now erased from this earth.
Our past reduced to a few pieces of rubble
in an empty landscape
We are the personification of the word tragedy.
And every night as we fall asleep
We gaze on the dusty, bloodred sky
painted with the colors of our sorrow and our loss
And wish upon the faded stars
that one day
We’ll return home.

