Tomorrow is the day our parliament will decide whether we bomb Syria.
In the 90s I lived in Pakistan and I loved being there. I have spent the last two Christmases there with my son Jonathan who works for the British government as an aid worker.
A Good Day’s Killing
A dozen good men will die today.
No grief yet hangs, like death’s decay,
Upon the homes of men soon dead,
Death’s call is made, but not yet heard.
They’ll go that day to court
Where law provides torts to be fought.
And men of crime are meant to cower.
Each their mother’s golden flower.
A farewell kiss, a father’s smile,
Nothing amiss to mark the mile
That stretched before to heaven’s gate
And left these men on death’s still wait.
Good men are slain for some sick cause,
Cut down without a moment’s pause.
Those final tender times remembered
As bullets thud and men dismembered.
Soon that day will news emerge
And families weep and join the surge
Of those with loved ones unaccounted
At the court as tension mounted.
“-Death, play fair and leave him be,
-He is my soul, the heart in me
.-I’ll take his place by your good side
-Just send him back to me” they cried
“No. The choice once made is made.
Your pain and grief in time will fade”
“Not mine, not mine” in tears once cried
“Can you not see I am with child”.
“I see it is a son you carry.
He, I shall not call or tally
Until his great grandson is born.
For him I’ll make the nation mourn.”
“Let nation mourn another’s child
He is my soul, I miss his smile.”
Give back my son’s dear loving father………………………..
Here it ended. Are we to kill more sons and fathers in whose name?