LAST CYCLE © 2008
To know that two million children die each year,
This idea embeds deeply, like an insane cry.
Do not forget this continent, land of pain and woe,
Where life fades in a cruel and violent silence.
Guerrillas who feast on hearts, in blind belief,
A spell that, in ignorance, carries victory.
But where is humanity in this sombre scene,
Lying in beds of blood, in an empty stupor?
Wake up, humanity, from your heavy sleep,
The future of the children lies on the ground, shattered.
There is no spell to heal the wound that tears us apart,
If we continue to sleep upon the blood that war generates.