This is the story that must be toldOf an Iraqi baby, not very oldLying in her crib one star-lit nightHow could she know of those planes in flight?She lay there quietly touching her noseWatching her mobile, wiggling her toesOohing and cooing, so sweetly is sheTalking to someone, who could it be?An angel is standing with her in the roomThe baby is smiling, unaware of her doomThe crib starts to shake and the mobile goes roundAnd suddenly comes a most deafening soundThe ceiling drops in, in a second or two On top of her crib so she ceases to cooNo one knows how long she lay thereWho thought about it? doesn't anyone care?Is she alive? is she dead? Is she in any pain?Now that you mention it, who knows her name?Her name is Amal. In English we say HopeCrushed between the rubble
Her tiny fingers start to grope"Where is my mummy? I love her so dearCome, get me mummy! It's dark in here!I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my feetThere's blood in my mouth! Give me something to eat!Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother?It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?!How long have I been here? Is this just a dream?I open my mouth, but can't even scream
That angel appears once again to my side,This time with a tear I plead, 'Why have I died?'Am I alone in my sufferings? No, there are many othersIn our grief and our misery, we are sisters and brothers
Who are we? I ask you... for what crime did we die?They're throwing a party! Doesn't anyone cry?!
Is it True? Am I nothing?! How could it be?Don't they also have babies, just like me?'It is war', they say, of which death is partHow blind they've become, how hardened of heart
Did someone say 'hero'? To whom do they speak?A victory claimed for killing the weak?!Why are they happy? Why are they proud?Don't they know that I'm cold in my burial shroud?!No war has been won; no ifs, buts, or maybes,They've only killed us innocent, helpless babies."
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