Shut down the television, close down the Internet,
save them from the cutthroat glare.
Young minds, young hearts, nurtured in twilight hours.
Let mongrels bark, birds sing, and mute fish swim;
and don't explain why they, and you are here.
But hark! I hear a baby, crying in the reeds;
and straining hearts calling a mellow tune.
For hope has stirred! And sunlight spoiled the night!
And the Pied Piper is calling a different tune.
And the gangly sunflower: still doing what sunflowers do,
has turned its back on the harbinger of death.
__________
© Cormac McCloskey
This poem was composed against the backdrop of hostage taking in the Middle East and the unrestrained reporting of the more gruesome details. Reports that had no regard for the time of day, or the sensitivities or the vulnerabilities of the young.
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