Coming to meet you
We are throwing down our weapons
we are leaving our barricades
we are coming to meet you
there are, sixty-five thousand of us
If you receive us with friendship this will be something new -
if you do not we shall die
And they rise out of the ground
across the barbed wire
through the mist
and the shells fall
and they walk on
And with each rifle shot
my father died
and my mother died
and my sister died
and my brother died
falling at the other mens feet
helped to the ground by other mens hands
And still they come
stumbling on through the mist
pace after pace
wave after wave of men going to their deaths.
And then,
one man
one man in an army
one man in the world
threw down his rifle and cried
And then another man seeing the first
threw down his rifle
and then another
and another
and another
And a strange silence
filled the war zone
And no one knew that it would happen
and no one can be sure that it would happen again
but everyone who was there when those soldiers met
everyone who felt that embrace
everyone who knew that joy
knew that love can be made in the world each day
by any one man.
I am throwing down my weapons
I am leaving my barricades
I am coming to meet you.
Poetry by Andrew Bindon
Read 721 times
Written on 2009-11-25 at 16:46
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