molten metal arrows thrown from near
fear and twisted bodies fill the space
where peace should live in the still
now aerial displays of vengeance
kill and subdue in place of talk
no one is right and all are wrong
roll out the tanks filled with death
and other mother’s sons in uniform
strike first, make death your ally
carry high the bodies of the children
burned and broken by the years
of shame and unforgiving
your soul and mine laid bare
before the march of inhumanity
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann
Maybe soon 'talk' will gain traction. We can hope.
ReplyDeleteI knew about this poem, but was too chicken to read it until now, because emotions over world events have been running so rampant - such extreme highs and lows.
Great read and excellent use of prose :)
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