To The People Of The World

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD
This is the story that must be told
of an Iraqi baby, not very old.
Lying in her crib one star lit night
How could she know of those planes in flight?
She lay there quietly touching her nose,
Watching her mobile, wiggling her toes,
Oohing and cooing, so sweetly is she,
Talking to someone, who could it be?
An angel is standing with her in the room.
The baby is smiling, unaware of her doom.
The crib starts to shake and the mobile goes round.
And suddenly comes a most deafening sound.
The ceiling drops in, in a second or two ...
On top of her crib so she ceases to coo ...
No one knows how long she lie there
Who thought about it? doesn't anyone care?
Is she alive? is she dead? Is she in any pain?
Now that you mention it, who knows her name?
Her name is Amal. In English we say Hope.
Crushed between the rubble,her tiny fingers start to grope.
Where is my mommy? I love her so dear
Come, get me mommy! It's dark in here!
I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my feet.
There's blood in my mouth! Give me something to eat!
Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother? It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?!
How long have I been here? Is this just a dream?
I open my mouth, but can't even scream.