Surviving War

I wrote this some time ago for a woman who lost an awful lot as a result of the Bosnian war. It wasn’t long ago but it is easily forgotten.

Dreams

Old men dream dreams
With eyes awake
And open eyed
accept their age.
With cold precision
lined
detailed
they see the days
stretched out before
like lines upon a page.

And boys dream dreams
with eyes half shut
with gallant sword
held out once more.
They see their self as heroes come
With much acclaim
And at their side
the beauty
that they dreamed before.

These beauties did not dream of them
They did not dream
of conquering men
No if they dreamed
They dreamed at night
Of saving whales
And speaking right
And pleading for imprisoned men
Or tilting at imagined mills.

Old women dreamed when no one knew
Of being young
And loving men
Who also dreamed of loving them.

But sometimes women old and young
And men who sit in blazing sun
Awake and find their dreams are naught
And stones are hard on bended knees
The sun, at day, burns on a back
That bows,
accepting wrongful kings
or break from thrown stones.

And sometimes some women
young or old
See through the pain that others wrought
See through the folly others sought
And see that dreams
were last night dream’t……
……..And waking clearly know

That all todays must start again.