They draw at tender heartstrings
those cherubic faces with their
dancing eyes and questing minds
eager to learn and be regarded as
clever little pantomimists, ready to
please, straining to be recognized.
The soft, rounded contours of their
faces, not yet whispering of the
tough angular lines that will succeed
in adulthood, grasp for opportunities
to demonstrate how prepared they are
to join the adult world. They avidly
watch and listen and emulate, happy
to repeat what they have learned by
rote, those clever little mimics. And
so their future becomes dimmed by
the reality of those who nurture in them
a passion to submit, to view death
as a gift to G-d, convinced by those
committed to corrupting young minds
and ushering them toward the Angel of
Death that theirs is a godly mission.
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