Paul F. McCann

BRING THEM BACK FROM IRAQ

Oh bring colour to the desert where gardens never grew
and make the sun shine for those who have cried in silence for years.
War is the produce of seeds sewn in anger and many weeds
now have been grown on wastelands watered by millions of tears.
It’s always the same in a place where blame is like a submarine
not allowed to surface and flowers never dance in the rain.
Soldiers, journalists, cameramen, are lined up on the streets of Iraq,
waiting to see the faces of their loved ones again.
The erosion of years has seen oceans of tears capsize Baghdad
but a boat’s about to set sail across the seven seas.
Barack bring them back from Iraq to their corners of the Earth
where love can welcome them home with no more terrorists to seize.
On a fair wind to a safe harbour they come with memories like thunder
to keep them company in the sunshine of the day.
Now is the time to rescue the life that is left and give rest
to those weary workers there who for too long have been away.