The Children of Iraq

I was listening to the radio on the way home from work last year and there was a piece about the effect of the war on children in Iraq. The poem has been difficult to finish, but this generation of children in that country, and all countries devastated by war, is scarred and anyone with children or grandchildren can only imagine the trauma if they were ours.  

The Children of Iraq

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq

I heard on the radio.

Growing, forming thoughts

and feelings,

hit with trauma

like a mortar landing in your garden

when you are playing

and blowing off your leg.

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq.

A father spoke in monotone of

how is son was paralysed;

shot by person or persons unknown

for no reason.

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq.

They watch, their dark eyes

burning darker images,

as their homes are destroyed,

their parents killed. Blood,

so much blood.

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq.

In their offices far away,

leaders sign the dotted line

for billions to be spent

on contracts

for the rebuilding of Iraq.

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq

There aren't enough psychiatrists

in the world to heal

the children of Iraq

 

Tim Fellows 2019 

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