Bullet Wounds And War Scars

You say we are the same, two exiles from war-torn countries
And you ask: ‘why do you love me honey? ’
I say: because of the passion, we both have it
A passion so strong it burns like fire all we touch
All we love and all we hate and everything we do...
We do with intensity beyond this world.

Ah, you are so very much like him
You fought for your country
Bullet wounds and war scars
In mind and body
broken hearts and buried memories
irreplaceable losses
a love of mountains and the colour green.

But now he cannot admit to love, because all love is controlling
And you, you love me but sold your heart
And would have to sell your honour to get it back
And me, well I will go on…loving you, him, justice
Because I know in between the blood of politics and hate
Flowers grow in Palestine and Bosnia and Belfast
And it is we who have that passion
Who will live to see the flowers bloom.

by Míchealín Daugherty

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