On your fortieth

When we assemble
To remember
The days of joy
moments of sorrow
What should we talk about
The fortieth of time
Of freedom
Of relationships
Of broken hearts
Of separated lovers
Of worried mothers
fortieth of bygone era
Of the very existence
Of the pride and pleasures
Hospitality and customs
But you know
The day is for dead
You are still alive
Breathing
But numb
Talking but mum
How should we remember
It is our fortieth
And not the first
Not the last
Pride shall fall
We will talk again
Of songs and dances
On river banks and meadows
Streams and narrow lanes
One day …

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Our world

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