Children of Neptune
by Lisa G. Froman
for the children of Parkland
The children, see how they are growing,
palms in air, atoning.
They are arising.
they water our lawns with tears
and carry our conscience in their levis.
Not far from the mother’s breast,
of undoing what’s been done.
Voices, raised like thunder,
they pluck and plunder
the rot they’ve been fed.
Sweet day, our children have come to charm us,
disarm us with our own mirrors.
They live in borderless towns, they do,
stepping in tune
to times that are not.
Marching over yesteryear,
they come to police profiteers of pain
with their sweetness,
a lethal weapon.
The children, see how they are growing.
Palms in air, they are arising.
they carry the jewel and the nectar,
the peace offering,
the means for the end of it all.
This work is copyrighted and used with permission.
(If you are interested in more of Lisa’s beautiful, evocative work, check out Tao Flashes, here.)