A child climbs on to a crowded bus,
He squeezes toward the back.
Around the middle,
Finds a seat and settles.
No one notices his backpack.

As his wait begins, more people cram in,
There's hardly any room to breath.
Two Jewish men,
Look down at him,
And smile as they prepare to leave.

It's a busy day, before a holiday,
Most people are just trying to get home.
Many have fasted,
Others outlasted,
The scores of those traveling alone.

A siren screams by,  just outside,
As the driver closes the door.
Folks try to see,
Through the calamity,
Exactly what the excitement is for.

As the bus pulls away, those standing sway,
They're packed like a can of sardines.
As the driver shifts gears,
All thoughts turn to prayers,
Anticipation turns tensions serene.

As it approaches its next stop, all inside move up,
A large crowd is anxiously gathered.
All move toward the doors.
Prepare to unboard.
No one cares about other folks matters.

The boy closes his eyes and shifts to one side,
Bows his head as if in prayer.
No one seems to notice,
His undeterred focus,
His solemn and unemotional stare.

His innocent face, seems out of place,
He can't be much older than thirteen.
As it comes to a stop,
All the lambs line up,
And in an instant they're blown to smithereens.

On this solemn day, before a holiday,
A child climbed onto a bus.
A premeditated suicide,
Where scores of people died,
An act that makes no sense to any of us.

In a land long forlorn, where Jesus Christ was born,
Somewhere far beyond the red sea.
God's laws are forsaken,
Lives brutally taken,
In a place where heaven used to be.

Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney