They march in my dreams
on Bob Dylan’s song:
How many times
will their features
keep changing
from holocaust victims
on their way to the ovens,
from refugees drowning,
washed ashore to walk on?

Starving children trapped
on a mountain, keep marching.
How many times do we turn our heads?
They march on in my nightmares
while yesterday’s papers
fly, white birds through the streets
and the answer keeps
blowing, keeps blowing my friend.
The answer is so far away.


Comments on: "Marching" (10)

  1. white birds through the streets…so heartbreaking..

  2. Beautifully expressed Ina L&H xx

  3. Moving and timely…

  4. As beautiful and – unfortunately – still as relevant as Dylan’s song, Ina! XO ❤

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