NEVER AGAIN WAR
If God would give me wings of a dove to fly,
to soar above the wide and whitening world,
to cross the war-torn zones like birds on high—
but I cannot, so my face in hands is curled.
So they won’t see the tear within my eye,
so they won’t see the rage that follows me,
yet I will write a poem, deep and high,
for in me lives a dreaming child still free.
I’d tell them, if I only had the way,
I’d tell them of the sweetest dreams I know;
all that the heart can hold will turn to lay,
and every pain inside this verse will flow.
Words only gain their value and their worth
when hardened hearts at last begin to feel,
when evil learns the tenderness of earth,
when faith returns to one who won’t believe.
I’d speak about the children left in pain,
about the bombs that tear their homes apart,
who lie awake through every night again,
who fear the soulless leaders’ hollow heart.
If I could speak, I’d say this truth aloud:
that weapons always breed eternal night;
we need more love—come close, don’t stay so proud,
leave not those orphans lonely in their fright.
I’d bring them just a little more of heart
if they could know that someone loves them still;
and there between the smoke and ruins torn apart
perhaps a wounded heart begins to heal.
And “never again war,” the poet cries—
yet what are words against such bitter streams?
A dove above the white world fills the skies;
we too shall fly when your own heart redeems.
By Dominis
