A call has reached my shore

An uneasy stir

A thousand tears that caused a wave

Ten thousand notes of untold woes

My uneasy heart to cross

To my heart’s steady thumping rhythm of once

A hundred thousand hands reaching out

From the depth of a dark sea

In agony

A chorus of a million anguished voices

My name in their lips

A call at my shore

A desperate knock on my door

Of three million silent deaths

Of shattered dreams

Mine included...

Washed ashore

Strewn to vultures

Of cruel deserts

In foreign lands

Or fed to sharks

In angry tides

In the stillness of my shore

A persistent quiet plea

That won’t let me be

The unheard slaughter

Of an old freedom fighter

First they killed his voice

Then his dreams

Then snuffed out his life

With him the light...

His last breath was my name

A disturbance at my shore

A muffled groan

Of a generation spared

From war that claimed

Fathers

Mothers

Brothers

And sister

Saved only to be crushed

By the survivors of the crushers of yesteryears

A familiar stir at my shore

From the far away land

Whence once I fled

To rescue my own

First I rescued my life

Then my dreams

Then my voice

But

What good is a voice

That has no roar?

What good is a dream

That has no colour?

And what good is a life

That has no honour?

Wailing at my shore

From the empty hut

Of a loin that bore

Ten sturdy boys

And five stunning girls

Who are all no more...

With quivering lips

And trembling hands

She spelt her name

In my heart...

And now I can’t let my eyes shut

An echo at my shore

A cry

A boy yet unborn

Whose death warrant was writ

As his mum tried to cross a boarder

With barbed wire piercing her feet

Whilst patrols shoot from behind

And in front

Her end also ends his start

Their last breath a loud shrill

All the way to my far away ear

And now I can’t hear excuses no more

A call has reached my shore

Of a thousand more plights

Unrecorded...untold...unheard

And I refuse to look the other way

For what good is my voice

If it doesn’t roar against injustice?

What good are my dreams

If they don’t make a difference?

And what good is a life

In this valley of death

If I refuse to hear the dejected...?

Their call has reached my shore

And woe unto me if I look the other way walk off

May 1st 2010

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