When the dust settles. A poem by Carol Boland

When the dust settles
and we come out of hiding
we will sweep the cities and villages clean
repair the earth
colour it a brighter green.

When the dust settles
we will fall in behind the hearses
feel our faces freely converse
put on the kettle.

And when the time is right
even in the middle of the night
we will no longer be segregated
or keep our distance
for we will be freed of our angst
when the dust settles.


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