Amazing how history most ’boringly’ repeats itself..again and again..and again!

 
DEAD ARE MY PEOPLE
 by Gibran Khalil Gibran 1883 -1931
Written during the famine in Lebanon in WORLD WAR I
 
My people died on the cross....
They died while their hands
Stretched toward the east and west,
While the remnants of their eyes
Stared at the blackness of the
Firmament...they died silently,
For humanity had closed its ears
To their cry.
 
 They died because
They placed trust in all humanity.
They died because they did not
Oppress the oppressors.
They died because
They were the crushed flowers,
And not the crushing feet.
 
They died because
They were peace makers.
They perished from hunger
In a land rich with milk and honey.
 
They died because monsters of
Hell arose and destroyed all that
Their fields grew, and devoured the
Last provisions in their bins....
 
They died because the vipers and
Sons of vipers spat out poison into
The space where the holy cedars and
The roses and the jasmine breathe
Their fragrance.