If my tears could make a laurel wreath of peace
For you to wear upon your troubled head
Giving victory to peace instead of war
If my breath could make a gale of love
Blowing doves of peace inside Kremlin’s walls
Defying hate and Lenin’s disgusted grimace
Ending forever your fear of love
If my eyes would let you see the truth
Freeing Russians from your mendacious misrule
Where you portray genocide as God’s cause
Where in Ukraine you wage your holy war
While at your devil’s table you gorge
On rape, murder and pillage and smile at the feast
And what will history make of you?
Will your Stalinist madness be excused
By a malignant melanoma of hate in your head?
No, you shall not escape, even in defeat
You will always be known as evil beyond belief
Not in Hitler’s camps but in a land once at peace
Now reduced to ruin for your fantasy’s sake
Your war is lost all you’ve won is contempt.
A lovely piece. If… and… If Only, beset our lives. Reflected in others and bound within ourselves.
Being human is not easy, despite the absolute wonder of the gift. Many, perhaps most, have not the energy or wherewithal or chance to muse on their lives and what they mean… and how their thoughts and actions leak into being.
But , I believe this world is full of goodness. And that our lives are all about Love… in the end.
Our Himalaya is loving the unlovable and forgiving the unforgivable… not only external tyrants, but the owner of the face in the mirror.
A lovely piece that has touched my heart.