Sometimes a few verses can say more than a few volumes. Poetry is a wonderful way of expressing those deeper emotions and thoughts, that halfway house between music and conversation.
Not So Long Ago
Woke one bright morning not so long ago;
Heard the sound of shooting out on the street below;
Went to the window and saw the barricade
Of paving stones the working people made not so long ago.
Met a man that morning not so long ago;
Handed me a leaflet on the street below;
Lean and hard-faced working man with a close-cropped head;
Held me for a moment, eye to eye, then said,
“Read it. Read it. Read it and learn
What it is we fight for and why the churches burn.”
Out on the Ramblas, she passed me on her way,
Weapon cradled in her arm; it was but yesterday.
“Not just for wages now and not alone for bread.
We’re fighting for a whole new world, a whole new world,” she said.
On the barricades all over town not so long ago,
The time had come to answer with simple “Yes” or “No.”
They, too, were storming heaven. Do you think they fought in vain?
That because they lost a battle they would never rise again?
That the man with the leaflets, the woman with the gun,
Did not have a daughter? Did not have a son?
Hugo Dewar.
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