By Margaret Elphinstone

A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children; she refuseth to be comforted for her children, because they are not. (Jeremiah 31.15)

Your cries are muffled by distance. You are

too many to imagine easily: you are News

huddled in noisy points of view

about what the old men have decided.

Only your screams are real. You are here,

not reduced through distorting telescopes,

but here beside me among these stones,

the ruins of ordinary lives like mine,

because it is ordinary to love your children,

ordinary to feel this twist of the knife

when they suffer, when they die;

ordinary not to bear thinking of life when they are gone.

It is not ordinary for any mother

to watch her children starve and die

because of what the old men have decided

from their cruel distance.

Your screams are real. You are here,

and all I can do today is hear them echo

because life holds nothing stronger than our children,

nothing we live for more.

Margaret Elphinstone is an author of novels, short stories and poetry, including The Sea Road. She is Emeritus Professor of English and Creative Writing at Strathclyde University.

Our regular poetry slot comes from Dove Tales, a registered charity which uses the arts to campaign for peace and against the increasing militarisation of our society

Dove Tales are always looking for contributions to their blog and online projects. To submit poems, stories, music or artwork email Jean Rafferty (fireopal.jeanrafferty@outlook.com).