And the Children Play

(photo credit: Mercy Aiken)

And the Children Play

(“May God himself, the God who makes everything holy and whole, make you holy and whole, put you together—spirit, soul, and body—and keep you fit for the coming of our Master, Jesus Christ.” 1 Thessalonians 5:23 [The Message])

Entering the avenue where the unlikely children play--
a brother on a bike, a little sister right behind--
and there are paintings on the back of the facades,
dripping down the necks of the alleys
detailing recent history and partisan rallies.

And the children still play underneath the signs
of times adults ignore. What, indeed, are we fighting for?
When Palestine suffers, so do their neighbors.
When Africans suffer, so do the children in highrise daycare.

Unidentified artists paint the meaning for us so we do not
have to walk through the galleries; stop; wonder; deeper;
and never let the children out to play.

They painted caves in France; dark; damp; edgy; older;
and the children played in the prehistory.

They doodled walls in Bethlehem; bright; breath; deadly; newer;
And the children tagged their playmates unwalled.

They spray-canned stucco in Minneapolis; memos from a week ago;
african and indian, spanish and norwegian, stayed where the flowers lay
upon the asphalt dark as skin. And the children stood hugging
the knees of adults who they hoped knew better than they.

And my next door neighbor turned three today; she; bashful; blonde;
skipping;
and she plays in the backyard pool just before the party begins.

Her chalk drawings smile from the cement driveway as she catches
hugs from anyone who will toss one her way.