For an Unborn Child

The smile shone through her eyes

As she played with her little sand castle

Bright morning light flowing through

Those golden strands of her hair

Never before had my eyes beheld

A sight more beautiful of earthly delight

As she turned to look towards me

A ray of love pierced my heart

Her innocence and purity filtering

Through my very essence

Washing away the dirt and corruption

That had seeped through my soul

All my struggles to find meaning

To find a path to walk on

They all culminated in this beautiful moment

Each day spent crying over lost love

Each night nursing a broken heart

Your love was the balm to heal my soul

To guide me to a better myself

To bring revelation

Into my thirsty eyes

For you lay down I shall

All my life and hopes.

Finding a new path

I often wonder how many people out there realise the love of working with a child. It is not so much you give to the child, as much as the child gives to you. In this world of cynicism and bitter despair, the fresh innocence of a child is like a breath of pure,unfiltered air. Each moment spent with them, is like living from the scratch, shedding the burdens of days gone by effortlessly, if only temporarily. When they trustingly let you guide them where you please and never once falter with doubts, you are reminded again of how fragile their tiny minds and bug hearts are.

Do they deserve to be labelled into religions or regions? Do they deserve to be treated as Zionists or a Part of the Reich? Is the political ambition of the grown up imbecile to reflect upon their gentleness?

All each child ever wants is a strawberry ice cream or a bright shiny toy. It is we who put the first missile loader in their hands or strap the first and last bomb on their waists. We are to blame for the dimness in their eyes and the inability to believe in unicorns or phoenixes.

How can a  world be safe, when the children themselves aren't? We are willing to stoop to the level of defiling a crying baby by burning a cross across their forehead or whispering words of a holy Scripture in their ears. We forget the skin we touch is more pure than any holy water and the thoughts more innocent than any thought in centuries gone behind.

We become so eager to ensure they follow the path of righteousness, we forget that the right path has long since disappeared.


Let them be, oh wise man of yore. Allow them to tread barefoot. Perhaps a new path they shall find, to eventually lead us to our own redemption.