POEMES et POETES

Regarde mon frère comme le ciel est bleu et serein.
                                                                                                                                                                     Le soleil nous réchauffe et la brise danse dans les feuillages.
                                                                                                                                                                       Le printemps est là.
                                                                                                                                                                               Ecoute le chant d’amour des oiseaux.
                                                                                                                                                                               Pourquoi faut-il que nous dressions nos fusils l’un contre l’autre ?
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Dis-moi plutôt comment vont tes enfants, tes amours.
                                                                                                                                                                              Les miens vont bien et te font dire bonjour.
                                                                                                                                                                          Un jour, des grands de ce monde se sont rassemblés.
                                                                                                                                                                               Et pour des riens et des peut-être incertains,
                                                                                                                                                                                  Ont levé les poings et se sont déclaré la guerre en proclamant :
                                                                                                                                                                                                                « Je lance mes armées contre les tiennes, sois prêt ».
                                                                                                                                                                                 Prions le Dieu de la guerre, qu’il nous soit favorable.
                                                                                                                                                                                     Demain au crépuscule, nous compterons nos morts.
                                                                                                                                                                                      Mais les morts mon frère ce sera toi, ce sera moi, ce seront nos amours.
                                                                                                                                                                                       Approche, prends ma main, mes frères ont besoin des tiens.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Allons sans détour, dire aux guerriers de ce monde,
                                                                                                                                                                                  Que désormais, ils lèveront les poings pour rien.
                                                                                                                                                                                    Que par duels, ils devront régler leurs querelles.
                                                                                                                                                                               Par politesse peut-être, nous leur serons témoins.
                                                                                                                                                                                  Puis retournons en paix, cultiver nos jardins, nos amours,
                                                                                                                                                                                       Regarder nos enfants courir dans la rosée du matin,
                                                                                                                                                                                            Écouter dans les ramures les oiseaux se chanter l’amour.
                                                                                                                                                                                  Hélas mon frère je vois venir le maître de nos destins.
                                                                                                                                                                                              Il nous faut à nouveau, jouer à qui ne verra pas la fin du jour.
                                                                                                                                                                                               Pardonne-moi mon frère j’ai fait un rêve qui n’est pas pour demain.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Martial Noureau