Knee on the Neck of Democracy
We’re praying between bullets, fed pepper
to season our screams, and dodging puppets
who dance on an orange string.
Change came like a lion,
stalked our lungs, then locked us down
in a twitter nest of failure.
What will we look like when hell is over?
When tomorrow doesn’t arrive with
a black coffin sun?
The pressure of events is crushing. Change smokes through this poem, tarry-thick and pungent with unanswerable questions: ".. What will we look like when hell is over?" I don't know, but it won't be like what we were. An excellent, deeply cutting 55, Susie. I can so relate. Thanks for bringing it to us and have a kickass weekend if you can.
ReplyDeleteAs Joy says .... you 'brought' it to us and then some. Totally Kickass!
ReplyDeleteI fear for democracy ~
ReplyDeletePowerful poetry here Susie! Change came like a lion indeed! There are so many battles we are facing right now, and your poem captures those fears and despair perfectly.
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