this stairway, this dying tree
these silent witnesses to time’s passage
this leaf, this marble
imprints of wars waged in isolation
among the scattered and torn pieces they lie
unmindful of the debris nor
the stench of death and decay ever cloying
this man, this humble and peaceful man
all grey and wrinkled
dust on his hair, grime on his cheeks
this man, this man’s eyes without remorse
stare and plunder its depths
this child, this child of merciless sanity
digging our grave with bare and bloodied hands
her face, bereft of innocence
oh how they stumble around, eyes uplifted
hands reaching towards the heavens it seems
oh let the gods hear
hear their laments and songs of sorrow
hear their faith raging and stolid
as dark as life, as bright as sin.
bm cc 200710

Leave a Reply