Innocent youth, guilty society
As the summer dawn poured its light on a new day
A wreath of the liquid of life covers the street of London.
A mother cradles the silhouette of her son’s soul.
And in a lawless silence the heaven is screaming:

How many of our sons and daughters, would be only
A shadow, all through a life?
How many mothers would be haunted
By the howling cry as the knife cut the tie?

Innocent lives, antisocial youth
In a prolific society with quick answer and quick fix
A sense of belonging in gangs they found.
Beneath a velvet of confusion,
In a deafening silence yet another soul escapes.

In our search for answers God is whispering:
Take my hand my son, take my hand my daughter
Your life will not be echoes and shadows
But a life all though life.

Marcelle Roujade
Painting: V. DeBruyne