A young boy,
Hands over his eyes,
Kippah on his head,
Mumbling the words of the Sh'ma,
Peering through his fingers,
Wondering why everyone's eyes are closed,
Peering up at his mom beside him,
Praying the same prayer as he,
And she is smiling down at him,
And later explains the tradition in that calming voice of hers.

A young boy,
Hands over his eyes,
Mumbling a prayer to his God(s) to save him,
Peering through his fingers,
Wondering why everyone's eyes are closed,
And why there is blood on the floor,
And where is his Mama to hold him,
And say that everything's okay,
And to explain everything.

I pray for the second child,
That no child will ever go through that,
And for my God to rescue all
Who live through such an attack,
For their prayers to be heard,
For others to answer the call.
And I pray for the first child,
For them to grow up wise and strong
And confident.
I pray for them to learn to help the second child.
And I pray for the world,
For it to welcome children
Instead of breaking them.
For it to become the place where
The life of the first child is reality and
The life of the second a memory
Passed down,
Generation to generation,
Telling humanity how to be kind,
And wise and strong
And confident.
I pray for the future,
For the present,
For the past,
And for anyone peering through their fingers,
Wondering.