Our nights have been long,
and longer still…
Tomorrow the war might be over.
Tomorrow the oppressor might…
Tomorrow the children might not have to starve
and might finally stop dying.
Tomorrow help might arrive.
Tomorrow our nights might finally be over.
Tomorrow we might be free.
“Tomorrow we might finally be free.”
Tomorrow we might finally surrender our arms,
and call it peace or silence.
But for today—
‘Tomorrow’ is still a tomorrow.
This poem can be felt globally and timelessly, addressing a dream of “tomorrow” which has failed to arise with the sun. The poem is fairly short and direct, so I have decided to not go line by line but rather just present it as it is, no further words are needed. The ending may be felt by those who keep up with politics, who are affected by politics, those who resist, and those who are awaiting a new world and how that dream has yet to come, how every night fails to bring forth the “Tomorrow” everyone is yearning for.
