Death’s garden has extended into our yards
Corpses, buried in soil fertile and rich,
The wisdom of the old, the spirit of the young,
What rain or sunshine could renew their blossom?

Don’t pardon yourselves,
Every crime among many is shared.

What child is born
With a gun in hand
Or a mind to slay?

Between the bullets of our tongues
And the hostility of our silence,
Is it any wonder that, among us,
Killers are made?

Do we ridicule ourselves in it’s pursuit?
Oblivious to the debris of ruin
We trail behind us in our quest.

Trampling the remains of
Broken hearts, broken wills
Allowing the wind to bear away
The ashes of an extinguished fervor.

On the heels of those who falter
Have our feet chosen to tread.
Kicking stragglers aside,
Pushing onward, heads held high.

To peace we are marching!

Gravestones etched in sorrow fill the fields beside the path
New seeds in a garden that will never grow,
Planted by the spade of a wretched soul
Upon whose heart we’d stepped.

Silence is now our due, or else lament
For words not weighed have marked our end.

If only our eyes had looked past the mirror…

If only the signs could have been clearer…

If only we’d cared……



Joined December 2007

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 12

Artist's Description

Very special thanks to Mr. Martin Steinbrugger and my good friend, Summayyah Sadiq-Ojibara for their feedback on my poem and their encouragement. This is the newly edited version, and I hope it is better.

Your feedback and contributions are still welcome. Thank you.

Artwork Comments

  • Pagly2
  • Natella2020
  • Martin Steinbrugger
  • Natella2020
  • highbeam
  • Natella2020
  • Metamorphosis
  • Natella2020
  • highbeam
  • Natella2020
  • beast
  • Natella2020
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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