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Poetry from within
   

Our Hearts and Minds


In a place some call the "Emerald Isle,"

for the past year or two has been home.

I'd never have guessed the effect it would have

on a man with a heart made of stone.



I knew not a thing of "the troubles" out here,

but I learnt as my life trickled by.

The country so fine and its people so warm,

sure this "war" it was surely a lie.



Of all of the folk that live here in this land,

just a few are enough to cause strife.

And to make themselves heard and force us to hear,

they've made themselves God and take life.



Some good people stood and said what they thought,

they raised up their doves made of card.

But those men without faces just mocked what they did,

and continued to fill the graveyards.



The political people from this side and that,

they spoke, promised, turned and condemned.

But the one thing they all could agree without doubt,

was this peace that's been broken must mend.



So here we are now and my son's turning ten,

and my daughter she's just become eight.

And it hurts in my heart to watch them grow up,

in this land that's torn up with such hate.



I watch them at night as they watch the TV,

and they hear about murders and all.

And it's now I realise that to give them a chance,

itís off we must be job and all.



I don't want to leave this place I call home

but I know what I do must be done.

I sit in my porch as the night wraps us up,

watching dreams fade and sink with the sun.



So we've packed up our bags and we're leaving at last,

this most beautiful country we love.

And I hope with my all that the peace does return,

and you'll no longer need your white doves.



My thanks for your time and may your God bless you all,

may the peace that you search for come through.

For understand this if you don't find it soon,

even God may give up and go too!

1997

Murdock