by Susan Lucas Kazenas

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I am a country
  torn by war.
My wounds are not healed;
  my people still feel
  and hear and taste
  their own warm blood,
  cold guns, and black boots
  ravaging through their soul...
Exploding through their mind,
  tearing through their heart:
  Their home is torn apart.
They find no answers,
  only iron doors.
I shed bitter tears
  from sweeter days
As I remember a cool morning haze
  Sweep over my valleys
  in a dance of praise.
And now I ask for freedom
  and the world looks the other way.
I cry for what is right.
  I abhor what is not
and the echo fills but a few ears
and the rest comes back to me
  touching but a few old weeping trees
  and a quiet haunting sea.
The Baltic beckons to me to come
 but the gates are guarded
 by Soldiers and Guns.
 
Susan Lucas Kazenas, Copyright 1991 (Written as Lithuania fought for independence from the former USSR)