For forty years I’ve been dreaming of peace,
Yet it’s been breaking, alas, piece by piece.
When I was a child daddy used to say
That peace would be a reality someday.
Though he was certain he’d be dead by then,
It would be a grace for his grandchildren.
He died and I’m still waiting and hoping
For the better though silently weeping.
How many generations must live and die
Before this crippled dove can ginally fly?
Why are we emotionally blind?
Why don’t we care? Why don’t we mind?
Dreams are something, but facts something else,
Peace can be achieved if we just talk sense.
Dreams must be acknowledged and then addressed,
They shouldn’t be overlooked or oppressed.
But they should not come at the expense
Of one side only, hence confliccts are tense.
Oh those days of ultimate exaltation,
Dried up by tha man’s assassination.
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