The 11th day,
the 11th month,
the 11th hour -
moments away.
Why.
Why.
Why.
Is it important?
Who cares if we remember -
they are long dead.
They were children,
their mothers
their fathers
waited for them
imagining
being at the train station
when they arrived
but
they wouldn’t arrive
never come home.
Those bedtime stories
all of those nights
worrying about their baby
who is now dead
somewhere
that is not home.
Those children are important
in themselves
and
because their story
repeated
and continues
to be repeated.
Dying for Imperialism,
dying for petroleum,
dying to line the pockets,
line the pockets
of a few
with nothing.
Those children
looking up at their parents
during bedtime stories
now looking up
without eyes
at a world
that has forgotten them -
all who loved them
now
also gone.
When we remember them,
we remember all children
who never came home,
who continue
not
to come home.
Someday,
we will see these children
as ours
all of ours
and
we will know
nothing
is worth this cost.
On this 11th day,
of the 11th month,
at the 11th hour,
let us remember them -
All.
Lee Sturgis