AUDIENCE

 

The ghosts of genocides past

Scream their defiance at the world

that stood and watched

They do not die so easy

The unjustly murdered scream for their revenge

 

I hear them in my nightmares

I see them in the street at dusk

I feel their cold dead fingers on the back of my neck

When the winter winds blow

I taste their blood in my wine

I smell the stench of their long dead shells

Wafting down the winter wind

And screaming.....

 

Indians

Christians

Blacks

Armenians

Moslems

Aztecs

Jews

All peoples

Leaves of the same tree

Do not die so easy

And they watch NOW

 

G.S., '83

 

Marilyn Moon, M. Segal, Kenny Ryman, GS: choir

GS: vocal

 

illustration: GS 

 

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