| Children Poetry
posted September 11, 2017
Displaced children of Disasters
Little Faces of the Flower
Beyond the flower's sweet fragrance,
Beyond the petals swaying gingerly in the breeze,
And the green stems, and floating leaves,
Past the stucco walls, splattered with graffiti
Past the blaring music, playing rock and roll
"Born to Be Wild,"
Past the bells on bicycles, with long handle bars.
There on the edge of the corner drug store, you'll
Find them, in tattered shirts and worn-out blue jeans
Peeking from around the corner,
You can follow their hungry eyes, over fly-buzzing, garbage
pits brimming with past lunches, past the cobblestone streets,
Watch as they eye those two-people walking from the mini-mart,
Smartly dressed in color adorn with silver and gold, who look nothing like them.
The glaring sun throws voracity upon small faces.
And this is what hunger shows.
Maybe they're searching for the hot day in September, when
loving arms have stripped from them.
There's wild scrambling sound
a scrawny, stray cat makes when he tips
over a garbage can searching for its next meal.
Maybe they're looking back for a way back.
Maybe they want their daddy's and mommy's
(But for now) they've lost themselves
Behind the stucco walls, and the garbage cans, the endless
Searching from place to place, they're
What's left of devastation bitter ending of litter debris,
and thrashed flower petals in streets.
- Linda J. Wolff 2017
When I wrote this, I thought of the children trying to understand the aftermath of devastation.
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