Suffer the Children

Suffer, they suffer the children,
When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks!
It is ever and always the children
Who will pay for their parents' mistakes
These are the hands that that wield a sword
With trained and practiced skill

These are the hands, and this the mind
Both honed and backed by will
Death is my partner, blood my trade,
And war my passion wild-
But these are the hands that also ache
To hold a tiny child

Somehow they know that I'm a friend-
I see it in their eyes,
Somehow they sense a kindly heart-
So young, so very wise
Mine are the hands that maim and kill-
But children never care
They only know my hands are strong
And comfort is found there.

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