In around 1999 I wrote a poem called “A Woman’s War”, which is in the poetry section of this blog. Never did I think I would write a follow up, yet today that poem arrived, it’s below, and writing it actually hurt. Trying to get my head around the fact that we could be in danger of the same thing happening again. This poem is for everyone, everywhere, no matter where you are from, who is worried for their children.
A Granddaughter’s War
My gran was a widow – a widow of war,
My mum lost her sister – gone too long before.
I grew up with the stories of how they both died
Told in wobbling voices with mixed anger and pride.
Then I got married and had kids of my own,
It was so special to see how safe they could roam
And their joy in their freedom to play and to run,
With no need to fear any man with a gun.
Now I watch a daughter who worries all night
Because this worst of all worlds has decided to fight,
Over things that don’t matter – to death we are led,
Or to stay up all night and just pray by a bed,
Whose owner is somewhere cleaning their gun,
And waiting to hear the words fight – or just run.
Watching the skies right out in the distance
For death that arrives with no chance of resistance.
I hear my girl sob as I first heard my mum.
I hear her beg God for the life of her son.
I feel my heart break completely in two
And I scream out to God that this happened to you.
You’re too gentle and kind sweet grandson of mine,
And your heart wasn’t made as a weapon of war.
May it not be your time we implore the divine,
May you not lie beside those who perished before.
My granny once said that the world didn’t know
The pain that war caused – or they’d just let it go.
But I don’t think that – those men know very well
How to take our good Earth and turn it to hell.
Don’t hear their excuses do not trust their truth,
They both just add up to destruction of youth.
My gran said the world had not understood,
But I know in my heart that they could if they would.
There are too many reasons to fight the ‘good’ fight,
From millions in money to the impression of might.
All of them spoken in lies that make sense
To the most twisted of minds (oh please do take offence),
While another sweet family loses a part
Of their life and their future – their hopes and their heart.
Living from moment to moment in fear
of the visit they’ll get and the words that they’ll hear.
That’s three of our family involved in a war,
Grandad and auntie – there should be no more.
Yet I sit with my daughter and can say nothing good
Because the world he might die for has understood.
In 2026.
Deb Hawken
Who hoped she’d never write a follow up to “A Woman’s War”.
Deb Hawken - Amorah 