Of Dust and Blood

Hidden by dust.
Blinded by sun.
Driven by hunger.
No strength to run.

Cuts on their feet,
From walking on stone.
Blood on their hands,
From being all alone.

Stomachs growl but go unsatisfied.
Yet another day they try to survive.
Would anyone know if these children died?
What would it mean if they stayed alive?

Babies cry out and tears fall.
Bur no one comes to answer their call.

Every day is a battle.
A fight to stay alive.
Every night is uncertain.
They try to survive.

Rain seeps through broken rooftops.
Too much cold then they can handle.
They shiver half frozen but it never stops.
How lucky are they for a single candle.

If, by morning, their bodies still hold life,
They’ll wish for the coolness of the shade.
But if they cannot withstand the heat,
The children's heartbeats will slowly fade.