THESE KILLING FIELDS

As I look across
These killing fields
Everywhere I see a gap
An empty space
A hole in the earth
Where a person might be
Had he been given
A chance at
Life.

You ask:
What means it all
To me?
Neither a father
Nor a mother
Be.

Everywhere I look
In these killing fields
I see . .

a friend
a teacher
an inventor
an athlete
a star

Who is just not there
His life taken
Before he took a
Breath.
© 2004 by Michael J. Farrand

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