Vic
oBradford
Two newborn babes in the hospital ward,
Which will wield scalpel and which will wield sword?
Today theyre identical; both we must cherish.
But soon one will strive long to see others perish.
Who shapes an infant soul, gives it direction?
Who, in this evil world, gives us protection?
Who shall determine which route each will go
One to heal, one to kill; how shall we know?
Is there a mark upon each tiny head?
Is there identity there in the bed?
Both sleeping soundly, neither awake,
Yet one will give life, the other, life take.
What knowledge have we at this tender age
Wholl travel in peace, wholl smoulder
in rage?
One will learn medicine, painkillers employ;
The other, explosives, our lives to destroy.
They seem so alike now, but look close and well
..
One sucklings from God and the others
from Hell.
One takes his nourishment near Heavns
gate;
One sucks his milk from the cauldron of hate.
So who marks one terrorist, devil
and killer;
Whose hand is it resting on lifes dreadful tiller?
Who names the other child healer, physician;
Who occupies such an exalted position?
Oh God, we know you, eternal, alerted,
But sometimes it seems that youve almost deserted.
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