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I cry (after Blake)

 I cry for children

stolen from their innocence by abuses of power or ignorance

I cry for their rage

that burns inside all their future days

when the flowers have all be stamped on by war-ing men

& our kindergartens levelled in steel & concrete

& do not know the naked rainbow

broken in fear to be remade in hate

who cannot remember their earliest dreams

who cannot sing their toothy hymns

violated & born in pain

where is love, pity, mercy, peace?



Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

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