Crying against the wind
I
I saw boys growing up as
Christians,
learning about God,
being taught at school,
to respect
about discipline,
to stretch the mind
and the boys were young and innocent
and for us there were peace.
We slept with unlocked doors,
the police did their job
to the best of their ability,
but the world changed.
II
I saw the effects
of the terrorist bomb
in church street
that smote the innocent
people in the street
and young and old
men, women
scarred, mutilated, maimed,
and cut into bits and pieces
by shrapnel and the deadly
rain of flying glass.
I saw an academic hospital
filled in every hall,
and the few doctors
and paramedics and sisters and nurses
and accountants, clerks,
and office people
issuing disaster cards
and admitting the living.
III
I saw young boys forced to become
a part of a deadly war machine,
and they were barbered, drilled, cursed
and trained to be the best soldiers,
learning discipline,
the strength found in oneself,
about friendship
and suffering the consequences
of killing humans beings.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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