We Pray For Children We Have Never Met

who live under bombs falling      children
    nearby who have lost more than anyone

        should ever lose in a lifetime
            living in tents, among mud

and for mothers who send their children
     out each morning to queue

        for a day’s ration of soup to keep
            the family from starving     children

who have become wise
     in the cruelty of the world     children

        who have seen white body bags
            have heard adults mourning losses      children

who stand with mouths agape, eyes
     wide as saucers as they learn

        what the world is, what hate looks like
            our prayers are our only weapons

politicians spew political dogma, alliances
     and treaties as they call for peace

        but there is no peace as barefoot children
            gingerly carry pots of soup back to their tents