“Your to old to be a rebel, <br />your marching days are gone <br />let someone younger do it this time <br />your protesting days are done <br />and I can’t blame her really <br />all my battles should be won. <br />yet something in me won’t let go <br />whilst the war’s still going on <br /> <br />I’ll be to old to be a rebel <br />when I’m to old to breathe, <br />and to old to see inequities, <br />or to old to see men bleed, <br />shed tears for children starving <br />and not try to ease their need <br />To old to raise an angry voice <br />Against prejudice and greed. <br /> <br />I’d be to old to feel injustice <br />and my heart to know the pain <br />or to see the growth of poverty <br />and my soul not burn with shame. <br />To old to shout in protest <br />as many innocents are slain <br />To old to strive for what is right <br />with hand and heart and brain <br /> <br />I understand your reluctance <br />To risk this life of ease. <br />But the rebel in me can’t just watch <br />People driven to their knees. <br />I hope and pray that this won’t change <br />Til my soul finds it’s release <br />And when I’m to old to be a rebel <br />I’ll face eternity, at peace<br /><br />Bill Mitton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-old-to-be-a-rebel/
