Peace march for life: just walk beside me

LETTER

Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Let’s not continue sending our emails infected with hatred and missiles. That we are proud people runs deep in our veins. An attempt to crush that spirit in another and surely the guns find their ammo, with people “eyes wide open” ready to inflict the damage.

We are little without each other.

“It’s mine” is the battle cry of many a war. The tears raining upon the blood-stained grounds.

Defensive positions, troops deployed, negotiated peace; the political wrangling.

The mothers weeping, the flags draped upon the coffins. Military honour, dead heroes. Dead enemies and little progress.

Eyes diverted, more stuff, party time. Tragedy in Africa and the Middle East, tragedy for all. Change the channel. Party time. Neverending hangover. The dead, well . . . dead.

Israel, Obama and Trump, oh whatever! As we know politicians lose favour with unfavourable decisions. Peace on our terms. Patiently we wait . . . and fight, and fight and wait.

For myself, I pray the prayer of old. A prayer for the team toward the team. “Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

“Here, have some tomatoes and potatoes and tell me something of yourself.”

Join the familiar march. The march for our family and echo: “We are little without each other.”

JONATHAN HANSARD

Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Let’s not continue sending our emails infected with hatred and missiles. That we are proud people runs deep in our veins. An attempt to crush that spirit in another and surely the guns find their ammo, with people “eyes wide open” ready to inflict the damage.

We are little without each other.

“It’s mine” is the battle cry of many a war. The tears raining upon the blood-stained grounds.

Defensive positions, troops deployed, negotiated peace; the political wrangling.

The mothers weeping, the flags draped upon the coffins. Military honour, dead heroes. Dead enemies and little progress.

Eyes diverted, more stuff, party time. Tragedy in Africa and the Middle East, tragedy for all. Change the channel. Party time. Neverending hangover. The dead, well . . . dead.

Israel, Obama and Trump, oh whatever! As we know politicians lose favour with unfavourable decisions. Peace on our terms. Patiently we wait . . . and fight, and fight and wait.

For myself, I pray the prayer of old. A prayer for the team toward the team. “Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

“Here, have some tomatoes and potatoes and tell me something of yourself.”

Join the familiar march. The march for our family and echo: “We are little without each other.”

JONATHAN HANSARD

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