I read today about a people that are fighting for their own land. I read about their suffering, and I read about their disappointment, about betrayal, the blood left on so many hands.
Some people will never understand,
the newspapers refuse to write their stories and television had them banned, and their government won’t let them talk.
I read today about a people fighting for their rights. I read about their losses and about their sacrifice.
I read about a people standing for their people when some
can barley walk. I read about those fighting for change in a world that is supposed to encourage freedom, but how they get no support. They have faced famine, the wrath of the powerful, death and disease, and yet they still have the courage to go forth.
I read today about mothers who are scared for their children. For their futures. Who will show them love, who will give them friendship, who will teach them right from wrong, if they don’t have a home and their family is gone? How will they learn, will they ever have fun, or will they grow up seeing guns and destruction, in a place they don’t belong, never knowing where they come from.
I read today about the dream of a people, how they want to be recognised for their years of struggle,
And an apology for the genocide, for all the trouble, even though it won’t bring back mothers, fathers, wives, sisters, husbands, children, brothers.
I read today about the dream of a people. To live in a land they rightfully own, no hint of greed, they just want a home. They dream of being free. I read about a people who are no different from me, yet we are worlds apart but only separated by sea.