Her brown face sparkled with tears
Whose glow shall wake the sky
The stars shall bend their voices
And every stone shall cry,
And eyes like gold shall shine
Through the salty snow where
Hopes and fears sinking deep
Running red beneath her feet.
This is a damned inhuman sort of war
The pilots sit among the clouds, quite sure
About the values he is fighting for
He can’t hear beyond his veil of sound
Or see the people on the weary ground
Only knows of the people creep
Like ants- and who cares if ants laugh or weep?
His lust runs yet and is unsatisfied
Waiting for the precise split-second to order fire
Proud of the skill; whilst the guns roar
This is indeed, a damned unnatural sort of war.
Reeds whisper
here in the morning
The sky shall groan and darken
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
For stony hearts of men:
God’s blood upon the spearhead
God’s love refused again.
But now as at the ending
The low is lifted high
The stars shall bend their voices
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
In praises of the child
By who’s decent among us
The worlds are reconciled.
And as for her alone
Through meeting her bouquet of death
She’s still alive; feels her body sweet
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother
Forcing to let her taste
Her own dark fear and pain
But out of breath-
She sees another child
ache
dreaming of
one breeze
sucking the shingle
and three birds
in a wide sky
And she believes
No matter how stars bend all their voices
Or how these stones silently cry
But her eyes have permitted every colour
After the first death, there is no other…
No, there shall be, no other…
red_lice
102605
1 comment:
so i browsed through yer old posts. and found out that no one has yet commented anything on this piece! shame.so anyways, of all your peace forwarding poems, this one has so much heart...your writing has matured and deepened indeed :))
keep up the good joob, haz!
tc,
c.
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