When you saw me lying wounded On the battlefield of life, You swore you would carry me Until we both made it to safety. Somewhere on that road, My blood soaked your shirt And heart and soul.
In return you told me of your hopes, And dreams — and fears Of trying to remain ordinary In an extraordinary age. I hope next time they crucify you It's me who will extract the nails, Take you down off the cross And wash you with wine of simple human solidarity. ... Alex Middleton
Poem: Comrade
You need Green Left, and we need you!
Green Left is funded by contributions from readers and supporters. Help us reach our funding target.
Make a One-off Donation or choose from one of our Monthly Donation options.
Become a supporter to get the digital edition for $5 per month or the print edition for $10 per month. One-time payment options are available.
You can also call 1800 634 206 to make a donation or to become a supporter. Thank you.