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