The Soul's Voice

It is Wrong

The four year old boy
Sat in his father's lap
Looking up at him, eyes filled with curiosity
And wondered if his loving father
Had all the answers to all the questions in the world

Feeling that urge to know, to be aware
Of all the things in the whole wide world
He asked, the meaning of a word he'd heard on so many lips
"Father", he said in all his mighty innocence, "What is War?"

The father sighed, the way he'd always done before answering his son's infinite questions
And looked longingly out the window, into the night sky
Making his son impatient and wonder
Why that question had faded out that ever-present warm smile from his father's face.

He turned to look into his son's innocent eyes
And said in a solemn voice that his son had never heard in all his life, "It is wrong. It is a wrong thing, son. It is a mistake. A mistake made by people like you and I.", he poked his son's nose and then his own, resulting in a smile to pop on his little round face, making his large doe eyes shimmer.

The father said, "To wage War is to destroy anything and everything humanity has ever stood for. Therefore, it is wrong."

The son asked, "Will I ever have to War?"

"My son.", the father said, in a plea to make his son remember his message when the time came, "If you have a choice, I'd be proud if you didn't. People may tell you it is a glory to fight for one's country but trust me when I say this--
There is no glory in killing."

The little boy looked up at him,
Not fully understanding the meaning
But knowing with a raging fire in his heart
That his father was right

He wondered what made him so certain that his father was right
And the rest of the world wrong but his father knew the answer to that too--
For a child's mind is still in touch with the soul
For a child's mind is pure
For a child's mind is made of love
And love only

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