10-07-2017, 09:07 AM
Thinking of Rua Kenana tonight
To me it ended when they shot my son.
He died in hiding, frightened by the noise.
It started differently for everyone.
Some joined me, refugees, life on the run
preferable to slavery mere boys
to me. It ended. When they shot my son
they knew we wanted peace. They thought they’d won
and moved us on their maps like little toys.
It started. Differently for everyone
at first, I taught that love can overcome
and faith can heal the flesh that guns destroy.
To me it ended. When they shot my son
they killed a threat, my heaven, both in one
and history writes down what suits its choice.
It started differently. For everyone
the vision of our own land, its own sons
and daughters singing out the land’s own voice.
To me it ended when they shot my son.
It started differently. For everyone.
(a villanelle instead of a sonnet. hope it counts :
To me it ended when they shot my son.
He died in hiding, frightened by the noise.
It started differently for everyone.
Some joined me, refugees, life on the run
preferable to slavery mere boys
to me. It ended. When they shot my son
they knew we wanted peace. They thought they’d won
and moved us on their maps like little toys.
It started. Differently for everyone
at first, I taught that love can overcome
and faith can heal the flesh that guns destroy.
To me it ended. When they shot my son
they killed a threat, my heaven, both in one
and history writes down what suits its choice.
It started differently. For everyone
the vision of our own land, its own sons
and daughters singing out the land’s own voice.
To me it ended when they shot my son.
It started differently. For everyone.
(a villanelle instead of a sonnet. hope it counts :