Sunset

I wrote this poem when the Bosnian crisis was at it's height, when people feared venturing out of their own homes to simply get fresh water for their daily needs.
I submit this however as a reminder that the same fear is present in Israel and Lebanon as we peacefully watch the sun go down where we live.


Winter Sunset at Icart, Guernsey

Tonight I watched the sun go down,
In shades of burning red.
The day had ended as it came
With all the island fed,

And as I walked along the road
The lights in homes came on,
Within the windows as I passed,
Sat people labours done.

To them it was a normal day
No tragedy or fear
Had knocked upon their door,
No mortars falling near,

Bird song and the high pitched cheep
Of grasshopper heard,
Nor the sound of weeping
Was the evening stillness stirred.

A bed for them was waiting,
Which would surely give them rest,
Not bloodstained by a victim
With shrapnel in their chest.

They drank their cup of coffee
With water that was clean.
Not from a dried up river
Where snipers could be seen,

To them the sound of shooting
Was a million miles away,
For them there just had ended
Another normal day.

But as I watched the sun go down,
The truth just dawned on me;
Another day had started
For a people not so free.

The things we take for granted,
We look on as our right,
For them a daily battle
Which silently they fight.

For them no singing of a bird
No opening of a flower,
But a never-ending nightmare
As they struggle for the power.

To live their lives the way we do,
Travel just at will,
To eat a meal in such a way
That all may have their fill.

The life they seek for children,
Who have never ever played,
Is something so elusive
It’s yet to be displayed.

The world can look so different
Depending where you live,
The sunset can be beauty
Depending where you live.