I was found along the road side in open ash air.
I grew up like a child of leach
     no mother no father.
I feed on bitter leaves and roots in the desert.
I stay in rain and hot sun for fear.

Are all children in the same condition?
No, a child elsewhere enjoys the calm blue sky
     and the love of his parent.
A fox has den and a bird has nest
     but the child of war has nowhere to lay his head
     for fear of bombs and bullets in southern Sudan.

O God lift up this child of war.

Poem used by permission.
Copyright © 2004 BCDEnterprises. All rights reserved.
Unless otherwise specifically stated, all photos and graphics are original work by Barbara Rose --
written permission required to use them.

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