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FRUIT OF DEPRESSION

 

I think of times long ago

And sometimes think I can say ‘Hello’,

To people who were once as I

But time ran out and they had to die.

 

In my dreams I see my Father’s face

Across the divide in another place;

In his steps I must follow

Over mountain, heath and hollow.

 

I feel vibrations in the air

And wonder is there someone there;

Looking after me from day to day,

As I work, sleep, hope and pray.

 

Time goes by and the years pile on,

It seems remote since my dawn,

When I wandered to the country school,

To read and write as was the rule.

 

Treacherous men they me frustrate

And I respond with latent hate,

Which tends to irritate the soul,

Like a fire within from burning coal.

 

I strive to treat all men as equal,

Realising there is no sequel,

To the daily thrust and grind,

In this life which tends to bind.

 

But we owe to those now stilled

To face life’s hazards and be fulfilled.

 

Monty Alexander 2.10.95

 

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