Ballad Of Light And Shadow

In the heart of a region steeped in history and conflict, this ballad unfolds a narrative of resilience, bravery, and hope. It captures the enduring, weighty struggle between Israel and Hezbollah, juxtaposing the forces of darkness with the nation’s unyielding quest for peace. Amidst the backdrop of tumult, from ancient lands to modern-day battlegrounds, emerges a tale of courage and steadfastness. This poem weaves together both the harsh realities and the optimistic aspirations of those who long for lasting peace in the Middle East.

In lands where ancient cedars rise,
And history fills the very skies,
A tale of strife, a tale of might,
Between the darkness and the light.

Israel, a land reborn from ash,
Sought peace in deserts, fields, and sash,
But from the north, a shadow loomed,
With rockets fired and threats consumed.

Hezbollah, named the Party of God,
In southern Lebanon, their feet firmly trod,
With Iran's whisper in their ear,
They swore to spread chaos, death, and fear.

From Shebaa Farms to Galilee's shore,
The skies were lit with fires of war,
A group that thrived on hate's embrace,
Against a nation seeking grace.

Israel stood with shield and sword,
Defending every child, woman, and lord,
For every rocket, a defense they'd hone,
Iron Dome became their aegis, their own.

A soldier, brave, with eyes so keen,
Patrolled the borders where danger was seen,
He thought of home, his family, his wife,
Swore to protect them, even at the cost of life.

Hezbollah's men in shadows crept,
With vows to chaos, they were adept,
But Israel's resolve, firm as the stone,
Declared, "This land is our home, our own."

The world watched as the battles raged,
In the media's eye, both war and stage,
But here's the tale, not often spun,
Of those defending 'gainst the terror's gun.

The poem of David versus Goliath, anew,
Where Israel's might, for peace, it knew,
Hezbollah, the giant in this fight,
But wrong in might and dark as night.

And though the conflict bears much sorrow,
Israel dreams of a peaceful morrow,
Where children play without fear,
Of rockets falling, ever near.

So ends this verse, yet not the tale,
For peace in the Middle East, we still set sail,
But in this poem, let it be said,
Israel fought with justice at their head.
                

William Somero