Where Do They Go?

Kneeled on the edge of the sidewalk,
right in front of her lifeless son,
a woman opens wide her arms
and lets out a hounded scream.
Passersby glimpse at the duo,
but offer no consolation.
There's no concern with deja-vu,
another day, another dead.
She's desperately disconcerted,
helplessly lost in her grievance.
And the bitter tears in her eyes
translate her grave calamity.
A single terrorist bullet,
in the randomness of its path,
has trespassed the taboo region
of her son's unfortunate heart.
Sir death has prevailed once again
at the expense of her sorrow.
And as we try to understand why
we are faced with the same question:
Where do they go,
Those men who die everyday?
Where do they go,
Those women who pass away?
Where do they go,
those only born yesterday?
where do they go,
those souls that fade away?
where do they go?

                                                                                                                        Evings Pierre

               
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