A poem by Suzanne McLean
Settlement.
Settled-ment.
How settled is the settlement?
Settled in cement?
Cemented to a land long in conflict.
How far back to we go?
One hundred years, a thousand? two, three thousand?
1948, 1967?
It was ours; no, ours; my ancestors, my homeland.
All sides cemented to the past,
To the memories, to the injuries, to the injustice.
Long ago, we were here together.
We farmed and kept the goats. We met crises together.
We had local disputes, but not war.
Many of us roamed from pasture to pasture, across the land.
No boundaries or nations.
But that is done now.
When is the past, the past?
How long do we hold on to past hurts?
When do we stop being victims? Persecutors?
Victims turned to persecutors?
When does the violence end?
Fear, it's the fear.
If we compromise,
If we give ground,
If we weaken,
They (the Others) will..............
The fear is all.
11/03/14
