A hundred years of broken dreams
Unfulfilled promises we’ve kept to ourselves
Of milk and honey, flowing in streams
These breaths we’ve held, these hopes we’ve shelved
Our lost garden, paradise prophesied
Do we dare to envision our lost treasure?
We come from death and genocide
And we’ll defend our dream in equal measure
A peaceful land where rivers intertwine
We’ll blot out the memory of their ascendants
The land made anew with prayer and wine
Hellfire raining on every descendant
Repaid debts, with blood we atone
The fig tree’s in bloom, there’s no place like home.
The Sad-Eyed Boy is a 21 year old poet, currently residing in South Africa and studying at the University of Johannesburg. He has been known to write poetry in between excessive procrastination and occasional anxiety.