Legacy

Thousands of ancient faced children clad
in salvaged rags stand, sit and lie,
by the side of a hot, dusty roadside.
They stare at us with dreamless eyes
as we parade like mighty warriors
through their battered village.
And...as we pass...they extend
their boney, bronzed hands
wanting more than the meager morsels
thrown to them.
War leaves...innocent children crying
without fathers,
weeping women...without lovers
and millions of poor, puzzled people
without a country.

Milo Von Strom