I Long For The Breath Of Peace Again
By John W. Fountain
This is my summer song:
Stanza 1 (The Metaphor)
Thunder. Rain. Death. Pain. I long for the breath of peace again. And mornings without the dew of aftermath. Of weekend tallies. Of epitaphs. And bloodbaths.
I long for symphonies of ghetto children, drifting in winds of better times. Lifted on wings in ice cream skies and apple pie. And peace is not an illusion. And self-destruction is not the conclusion of us.
I long for misty water-colored memories. When boys slap-boxed. Made slingshots. Licked icy cups. And girls jumped rope. Hopscotched. Kissed lollipops. And nobody got shot.
It’s been so long that maybe we forgot…