Color from Ashes

Handing her a pack of crayons
and a stack of paper
I tell her to draw a picture
of her future.
I wonder if she can see
Beyond the ashes of what used to be
And the loss that is now normality.
At age eight she should not feel
As though she'd taken life for granted.
She was not meant to be victim
Of human hatred at its ugliest
Or to try to comprehend
The "why?"s behind it all.

The purity of a child's trust
Is stolen from her
The moment she is betrayed

By those she called her neighbors

Will she envision a way out of this?

She must fight from now on--

For the wounds inflicted by hatred
Will with time agitate and itch
For revenge.
She must struggle for a future

Of peace, with forgiveness

Her only weapon.

Draw, little one
The world you want to see.
There is no shame in
The simplicity
Of life.
Don't let anyone
Call you naive for
Dreaming of lasting peace.
--By Elaine