At the start it was not so

That we did know the stone to throw,

To kill the beasts and men like us,

To think it fine to strike the blow

That spread man's blood upon the dust.

How was it that death entered in?

Cruel killing, how did it begin?

Did not the Tree of Life stand there,

In God's garden where was no sin.

In God's garden where all was fair.

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Starting Blocks

I was born in nineteen forty four

When black and white films were the norm

And the black and white bloody world war

Was in the last bloody phase of its storm.

But what does a babe know of such things?

A mother's breast is all that it cares.

Her steady gaze to bask in,

Her voice to soothe its tears.

As child I saw the bomb torn sites,

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