Caught in the crossfire
crouching beside your father
behind the rubbish bin
until a slug untied the fragile knot
that held you in this dusty unkind world
you soared to paradise I'm sure
but paradise is often tainted
with anger dripped out from martyrs'
wounded souls
some scars don't heal
oh, we can give, and grieve
and hold each other
and hate, or block it out
or turn our minds to other things
but this is where we sit:
caught in the crossfire
Richard Lawson
Congresbury 2000
Congresbury 2000
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