Though Distant…

Dig you a trench,

And bury your brothers in war.

Decimate climates of peace;

Call every innocent, whore.

Wage every day

What your ravenous soul craves,

And watch fools become martyrs,

Kings crowned from jesters and knaves.

Squander their time,

Should our children survive.

Sell their inheritance and health

Before they’re of mind…

To know what you have taken.

Beware, the rustling

Of defiant stares.

The whisper of leaves

Grows louder than bombs in the air.

Do you hear it?

Though distant,

It is the sound of elections

With inflections of hope.

–C. Green



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