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PoemBy Alba Pla Molero
My home is in the past now, and always will be
I really don’t know how to see it now
I used to walk above fieldsof destruction,
and water of fire.
I used to call you a brother, a friend
but we hold a flag instead of a book.
We used to singand dance
but now our songs have died
drowned in a bath of blood,
and fake honors.
We are fool to makewar on our brothers
under our sky.
This arid land, is home for me now
You didn’t deserve it, my brothers under our sky.
NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN
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