O Flankers

O Flankers, your children far and wide Stands at the zenith of their faith to take Their prize, bereft of heritage and pride Your blood stain shards making them shake I was Hiroshima, you were the bomb Your explosion devastated me It was not predicted for to become Such a callous and cold humanity I think of you, but cannot merge you Now with that you thirty years gone Growing old is not better then, not true You are the antediluvian dawn. This wickedness in you is a fallen curse And yet my love cannot abandon you The cordite power make trees into hearse And people into things strange to view What material greed infected your dream What disconnected social order reared What dead mythic made dross of the gleam You who once loved, laughed and cared? O Flankers, my village nestled in the hills Beside the frolic of a nurturing sea The sands were tranquil, and now it kills The very fragrance of sweet innocency. I want my fruited forest of peace again I want the dancing waves of soft laughing seas I want a place where thrives the love of men The faith to die praying for peace on bended knees