Past

Today I am Belgian, I am

Charles, the Frenchman

I also am a European, Human.

And perhaps more than anything

Sad, hurt and dismayed.

Am I allowed to be angry though?

Anger burns bridges they say

Violence multiplies itself exponentially

And so lets drench our anger in ink

Write, invent a world of peace

A parallel universe of candles,

art and agonized passion

For the downtrodden,

for the black shrouds of

misunderstood oppression

For the beacons of hope that blow themselves up, For their

misinterpreted language of vengeance

But smile, grit on. That war which

They declared is centuries old

It is surely not mine or yours. It's past.

We will fight a war of colored flags,

TV speeches, peace and present hope.

The future shall bring harmony, you will see.

Meanwhile on his way to meet his three year old,

a school teacher runs into the master of his destiny

All in a split second of slow-nurtured hatred.

It is past. And today, I am Belgian, 

I am Charles, the Frenchman,

I also am a European,

A little less human maybe.