A Pacifist's Agony

Here in the sad and melancholy skies,
I see a lost bird with fear in his eyes.
Why is he flying over these smoky clouds,
this burning city and wailing crowds?
Doesn't he hear the guns as they thunder,
and the artillery putting this place asunder?

Oh! Angel of peace! This is no place for you.
This wretched city will not shelter you.
Leave us alone to play our game,
of pressing the trigger with a precise aim,
of coloured maps showing friends and foe,
of computer keys setting cities aglow.

Who cares under the coloured maps,
are countless babies, mums and dads?
Their faces are invisible
and silent their cries,
for the remote warriors,
with their modern toys.

Our senses are numb,
lost is their ability,
to feel the pain of
a far away cruelty.
It's not the same as
one in our vicinity.
Oh bird! You won't find
a perch in this lost city.