"My Child, My Child"

Dedicated to Neda, a victim in the Iran scandels.

Gathering of truth,

Neda in a group,

Was she suppose to be there,

For a subsitute of violence,

Cast a shadow,

You are human

All those who tried to save her,

One last call,

As she died in a pool of her own blood,

Surprised to know,

This was the end to the extension of this world,

And now she is gone...

A man screams,

"My daughter, My daughter!"

All around witness a death,

Too young as she lay,

Fighting for her life,

A supposed fight from extremist,

What's left?

Nothing,

Neda died

As the crowd neared,

We all face this,

As the world becomes closer together.

Author's Note

I just keep editing, and yes, there is a lot of structure, but I'm not a poet, but a novelist.

Reviews

[Sean Allen]

Nice tribute to Neda my friend. I have begun telling my young friends at work about her so that we will never forget her and the other students who have died since the impossible election results. Impossible because millions of paper ballots could physically never have been counted in the short number of hours between the election and the announcement of the results.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

What are you talking bout no structure... this is great prose poetry... the format adds to the power of the piece. A wonderful tribute to a fallen heroine.