Poetry

richard jarboe, 6 november 2011

the veil

by a war torn ruin a woman is standing,
desert sand like ash in her hand,
a veil covers her body,
as though the veil knows she's nowhere.

she had come down to condemn all the leaders,
for murder of the Heartland,
her sister was taken this morning,
and it's feared she's been shot down in cold blood.

there's a camp in the desert where the youth of dead parents,
cry to hear their mother call,
where their God-given rights have been trample asunder,
and their eyes are filled with tears and that's all,

what force leads a land to a life filled with murder,
iron guns and iron ground,
where evil is master, brutality is pleasure,
and there is no other way to be found.

she had come down to condemn all the leaders
for murder of the Heartland.