The street is filled with children
Each of you, pick up a stone.
The street is filled with children—
shivering, whimpering, crying,
silent, frozen, lifeless.
Under the rubble, on the broken roads,
near burnt tents, over empty lots,
pick up a stone.
The street is filled with children—
pale, malnourished, unrecognisable,
quiet, hopeless, enraged.
Under the shadow of heavy bombs,
in front of firing tanks,
against armed soldiers,
pick up a stone.
The street is filled with children.
Dead children—
burnt, mutilated, beheaded.
Pick up a stone, each of you.
Each of you,
the street is filled with children—
our children—
to grieve over and resist for.
Pick up a stone.
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