This free Pixabay image could be a child
in so many theatres of war,
no doubt terrified,
grieving family or friends
and desperate for his own life.
This sonnet is
to pour acrimony on the execrable trade
which makes such devastation possible.
Heap shame on manufacturers of arms,
whose shareholders profit from spleen,
from scarred children, caught in between
mayhem and death wrought by sadist tsars.
Stir up those yearning for peace and calm
to brand this production obscene;
to find ways of curbing their resource streams,
preventing them from fuelling the harms
that accrue from the cesspools of foulness and hate,
and swamp the world with the bane
of the terrible trade we label ‘defence’;
which further disgusts, by promoting vile rape
in the wake of its products of shame.
Does God weep at such corporate offence?