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Lynda Tavakoli
I was born in Portadown in 1955 but now live near Lisburn with my Persian husband and two teenage children. I began writing short stories four years ago after joining the Lisburn Island Arts Centre Creative Writers' group. I am presently in the middle of writing my second novel.
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This Child of Mine by
Lynda Tavakoli
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A child of nine looked up at me
And asked me why it had to be
That foolish men should have to fight
And cause destruction in the night
And why was it that no-one cared
Or listened so they never heard
Their children鈥檚 baffled voices saying
Is this our future now decaying?
A child of mine looked up at me
And told me that she could not see
How anyone could act that way
Like people on the news that day
To her the world was simple still
That it was wrong to maim and kill
Or let your heart with poison flow
For others whom you did not know
My child of nine looked up at me
And I looked back despairingly
For words could never tell her how
All hope would be abandoned now
I wanted very much to say
That there would surely come a day
When all those selfish foolish men
Would make our future bright again
But as my child looked up at me
With hopeful gaze, expectantly
I felt such awful sadness then
Because I saw how it might end
A never ending road of blame
That taints us all and shows our shame
Not even for our children鈥檚 sake
We cannot some concessions make
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