Whenever War Robs the Life of a Child

oh, you dear little angel
with gorgeous hope-eyes
robbed from you abruptly, cruelly

your mother, your father, or perhaps, both at once
were taken away from you
by murders that instantly froze your blood

a bitter cold, grueling hunger pangs and
an unending thirst are now your steady companions

war mongers’ obsession to kill is real!

i crave to take you inside from the cold,
back to your times of parental safety

i crave to feed you

i crave to soothe your thirst

i crave to cradle you
to a slumber of ultimate peace
where you can remain as pure as
each of your dreams of innocence

i crave to fetch once more
that over-flowing mother-milk of mine
which fed millions like you before,
nurturing back to life
tiny broken frames and
shattered hearts

i crave to fly with you
into my glorious yesteryear,
where every soul was tucked in safely,
existing and living freely

for now,
just sleep, my nameless little angel
so that the foul smell of the dying
does not taint the delightful scent of your tenderness

my death-free love is on its way
it will rush to you along my gazelle-like gait
to mend your receiving blanket
with a carnage-safe shield

my broken heart will then self-mend
and my wailing soul will self-mute

the metamorphosis will soon be complete

sleep, my nameless little angel,
sleep alongside my dreams of peace . . .

hülya n. yılmaz, 10.20.2017