Only A Little Boy
“I’m only a little boy” he said,
“why would they want to kill me?”
Yet, he doesn’t want to grow up,
a martyr is what he wants to be.
He wants to die for the cause,
as every young man should do,
Yet, it’s not so much what he
wants, it’s just all he ever knew.
Tanks on the street are common,
gunshots are little cause for alarm,
He’s only a little boy, but he’s
never lived safe from harm.
Much of his family is dead, or if
they’re not, they will be soon,
Twelve years old, he thinks it’s common
to care for your best friend’s tomb.
Bulldozers demolish the houses
in this little boy’s neighborhood,
Leaving nothing but heartbreak and
rubble, where his home once stood.
No one is coming to save him,
the odds are stacked that he’ll fall,
So, in the end it’s easier for him if he
believes he’s answering the martyr’s call.
He knew of no other way of life,
“I’m just a little boy,” he said.
And because two countries cannot
get along, this little boy is dead.
© Donna M. Monnig
This poem was inspired by the documentary “Death in Gaza.”
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