I come and stand at every door
But no one hears my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead, I am dead.
I’m only seven although I died
In Hiroshima long ago
(Vietnam-Bosnia-Kashmir-Afghanistan-Iraq)
I’m seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow.
My hair was scorched by swirling flame.
My eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind.
Death came and turned my bones to dust-
And I was scattered by the wind.
I need no fruit, I need no rice-
I need no sweet, nor even bread.
I ask for nothing for myself-
For I am dead, for I am dead.
All I ask is that for PEACE.