Tender Spirit
Wed, 25/02/2009 - 21:44 — Nadrock
My name is not important.
My life was short, yet I witnessed so much.
I was not a politician, doctor or lawyer, but I still had a voice.
You took that voice away from me.
I was only five when my life ended, yet I was happy.
As I lie here, wrapped in cool, crisp, white cloth, my body is still warm.
My presence can still be felt.
My father's hand comforts me as my existence ebbs away.
You pointed a gun at me and halted my breath.
What right did you have?
This fight wasn't fair. I was a mere child, my life was just beginning.
A tender spirit am I, but I am stronger than you'll ever be.
I am blessed with eternal life, whereas you'll burn for your crime.
You got what you wanted - I hope you're happy now.
(C)2009, NZ.
Comments
I was again inspired by the
I was again inspired by the Artland Gallery's exhibition "The Space Between" which prompted me to write this poem on my second visit to the Gallery on 14 February 2009. It was centred around a little girl of approximately 5 years old who'd just been killed in the Iraq conflict and lay on the ground, wrapped in white sheets, with just her face visible.