After the sorrowing mourning of Good Friday,
Dark sombre and full of awesome dread,
The wild bells of Easter morn ring with joy
For He is risen and we have eternal life.
What about the children for whom Easter Day
Is yet another day in the long catalogue of days,
Who look forward to nothing more beautiful
Than, hopefully clean water, food and full belly.
There will be Easter eggs and songs of glory
Even if we are upside-down and celebrate old rites
Of Spring in the autumn of our antipodean year –
But the children will still go without essentials.
There are children who are born to die of hunger,
Or simple disease so easily cured – for our children.
There are children who suffer unmentionable evils
Inflicted on them by adults who do know better.
Those old days we speak of with nostalgic longing –
Were they really good or do we invest them with holiness
Making them like Grantchester with peace and holy quiet –
(And shooting themselves when they get to feeling old).
It is the unfairness that makes my angry blood boil,
That there should be children reduced by famine to
A travesty of childhood and all the Rights of the Child –
When all should be as bonny as the Phoebe’s and Zoe’s.
The children are loved and well beloved and mourned
A woman’s heart filled with sorrow for the child she bore
Reduced to this pathetic little scrap of humanity
But because it is Easter there is hope for the morrow.
Pam Barrington MBE
There is a poem with a similar name and different content