The Scapegoats

I saw this child in the news this week. We cannot give help, because aid is blocked. It just made me so angry that there are politicians who condone this blockade, who pursue this war and cannot see how much the innocent suffer. It is perhaps not on the statute books as a form of murder, but when I look at the pain and suffering of this child, I think that those who are deaf to allowing help to get there are as guilty of murder as if they had committed it. They block their eyes, they cover their ears, and children are dying horribly. Of course they have all kinds of excuses, but it is really inexcusable.

This poem is a very angry poem. Look at that child and you will understand why.

The Scapegoats

I turned on the news, just by chance,
Not really watching, taking a glance,
As one does. And then she was there:
Just caught up in a war, suffering, fear;
A small child, I will not forget that face,
Lying in that bed, a wretched place;
Sickly, gasping, starving, needing aid:
But there is no help, hopes just fade;
Aid is blocked by Israel, in this war:
Unfeeling politicians close the door;
And as surely as if murder of a child,
Their foul politics have been defiled;
Isaiah would have words to say today:
Harsh words to those who go this way,
On the boots of the invading troops,
On Hamas, Hezbollah and such groups,
Of shirts soaked with innocent blood,
And lands reduced to rubble and mud;
Abuse of oppressors, tyrants cruelty,
Because they cannot face or see
That child’s face, one of so many,
And nothing will their war deter.
Abandoned, with no regard for her:
The massacre of the innocent I say,
By Herods on their thrones today;
Graves are assigned by wicked men,
So deaf to pleas, again and again,

Who make scapegoats in this way,

Of children, dying day by day,

Through lack of aid, an evil choice:

For the innocent child has no voice;
She has no stately form or majesty,
That we would look on her and see:
But in sickness, a child of great pain,
Whose suffering seems in vain;
But one day a judgement will come,
To mighty men, who beat the drum,
Of war, and order launching shell,
And they will very surely go to hell.