Where will you start the poem ?

After so long long time of not blogging in English and just after the time that Mr.W started nagging about Iraq, Lonely Ali is blogging the way again!
Where must we start ?

" Oh !
Wish freedom was a tiny song
as tiny as the bird's throat singing "

Freedom , Everybody is talking and were talking about around here Specially my beloved poet BAMDAD.I myself do some poetry about that but I always ask myself what freedom means for real.Tellin' the truth whenever the word freedom comes into my mind I imagine the scene :

" Mellow grass , wet just after the rain in a green country
not mine but not for anybody else
couple of 6 years old child running in barefoot "

You see ?
It is quiet nice when you talk about it but when you come close it vanishes and disapear ...
Blogging at 5PM after the ofice work the lonly Ali is never happy about his world.He is unhappy about his country ,the gone land, He is unhappy about his people and he is unhappy about his world , Where are we going? he asks himself Palestinians kill the Israealies and Israealies kill palestinians but when will the war stop ? When will the inocent killing stop ? When will be a day with no terrorist and no anti-terrorist, no Bush no Bin Laden Day ?
Will we be alive to see the day ?
Will the day come ever ?
I remember the time that I were in grade 2 or 3 of primary school, and we were to write about the man that we wanted to be in future.I wrote the composition about a machine and myself as the operator. The machine which can make kindness and love , and can cure death and sorrow.teacher cried and told me " You will learn things when you get bigger ". I am bigger now , as the operator of the machine I type the kindness and I am trying to cure the death and sorrow . The dark deepen and deepen the kindness means nothing and the death stays alive horrifying and humillating. I Cry, as the teacher did.