War Child

Behind mud daubed walls

Cobbled by fate’s cruel hand

A young child waits

Eager for voice familiar

For Mother

Healer of the sick

Fortress of the wounded

Cloaked dancer in the night

Casting hooded shadow

Against blood stained walls

Once brightly muraled


Eyes born of war

Brushed dull by fear

Darkened by dread

Of night’s passing


He waits in urgent silence

A scrap of bread

Torn from stale loaf

Cast upon bomb scorched ground

All that remains

Of a once proud land


With hungry heart pounding

To the beat of distant rumblings

The child clings to final thread

A wide eyed prayer

For a cloaked savior

Healer of the sick and wounded

Lying lifeless and cold

On a dark street

Of Aleppo





About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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4 Responses to War Child

  1. Tanya Cliff says:

    Important, timely and wrenching. Excellent piece!


  2. Terrible sight! earhthsahttering, sky dividing, oceans whirling, heartbreaking!there is punishment law for killing one; why there isn’t any law against WAR?


    • Phil says:

      Good question. I think the answer lies in the people that make the laws are the ones waging war. War does seen like an archaic practice doesn’t it? No matter how far we humans advance, hate and violence follows us. And it seems most of us don’t support it. Very strange. Peace my friend. Spread the word.

      Liked by 1 person

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