Wrong
My hand stretched
As far as I could
I reached for
Apricots
Leaves were as I knew
And so was the trunk
And the branches but
I was wrong…
Fruit was not apricot.
I read of Sinai…
One of those fear spreading things
Fear of ISIS…
I shout:
Fruit comes from the seed
And the fertile grounds
Apricot is not apricot
If grew in wrong place
By wrong deeds
See the seed
See the seed
See the seed
And the fertile ground
And the fertile ground
And the fertile ground
What has happened?
What have we done?
What have you done?
What are all of these lies?
What are all of these drones?
What are these manlike robots?
Have we forgotten the cold war?
Do not we remember the cold war?
Was it not for a few to make-sell arms?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem