This morning I awoke with a heavy heart, feeling the anxiety and depression of those around me, and the world. As a historian by training, I feel saddened by where I sense we are going. Normally I don't write poetry, except for my annual Christmas poem, but at dawn, on this lovely blue sky, February day, this poem came to me. It is untitled at this point.
Dreams of Founders shattered,
Fears of the Innocent manifested
as they come to await a tragic end.
Sold out for evil gains,
a nation once full of promise and hope,
titters on the pinnacle of despair,
bracing for the fall into darkness
as faux leaders push
Democracy and the Republic
over the edge and grin wickedly as they die,
thinking themselves gods.
Dreams of Founders shattered,
Fears of the Innocent manifested
as they come to await a tragic end.
Sold out for evil gains,
a nation once full of promise and hope,
titters on the pinnacle of despair,
bracing for the fall into darkness
as faux leaders push
Democracy and the Republic
over the edge and grin wickedly as they die,
thinking themselves gods.
No comments:
Post a Comment