I have a hunch
Of things to be,
Of malice eyes
Or kinder heart,
It may light my world
With wonder and hope,
Or tear them apart
In wake of a dawn.
It came with the air
I breathe, I feel,
A wretched stench
Thick with hate,
The silence that follow
Is awkwardly calm,
Drench my heart
With fear of a near harm.
My fear is no haste
To save my skin,
Of no harm I fear
More than of my kin,
In lands they live
Far and near,
In my heart they live
Near and dear.
When among them
A splinter is born,
That churns a fire
Of bigotry and hate,
A passing wind
Will catch the heat,
And lead the spark
Onto piles of our misdeeds.
A senseless crime catches fire,
And to another like forest fire,
The flames will rise
Over all hopes we rely,
Lit on this pyre
My fraternity burns,
The strength in my heart
Wilt in this plight.
Ghost of our fathers
Stir in my dreams,
They stand apart
Far across strange shores,
They mime our rife
And set themselves alight,
In the pain and agony
They plead for good life.
I wake from my dream
With a lurking hunch,
Of many years in tears
And in deep silent prayers,
We mend our ways,
And tend our life,
We knit this world
Like a lovely bee hive,
In this shade and in the light
We bring hope and delight.
