There will come a day
There will come a day when children will make playgrounds of battle fields.
Miniature palms will Paint tanks yellow & kick footballs against once prison walls.
Maggot tarnished ropes that were once made taught echoing the cracking of a neck
Will be used to construct forts and skip with.
Tales of foreign policy and shia versus sunni and Israeli versus Palestinian and Us versus Them will be reduced to fairy tales and said rhymes
Told to a daughter at bedtime.
These are the stories I will tell you.
When Uncle Sam and Mother Earth will put aside their sibling rivalry
Realising blood may be thicker than water but blood loss is direr than dehydration.
We will sit around fires pressing scarred hands together,
Matching scratches and enjoining wounds to form the calligraphy of a common biography
We will be as one body where a pinprick on a finger will resound through eternity travelling space, time, miles and minutes until it pierces our silence like a tap drip drip dripping in the night
And the serenity of words will be realised and we will recognise that everybody hurts but more importantly everybody heals.
And the ferocity of words will be realised and we will load our mouths with syllables, aim at targets with conviction and leave wounds of words from those fort turrets
And every soldier will be first and foremost a poet.
