Carnage: A Requiem

Carnage

There are imprints left on the land;

Deep grief and pain.

I see this, feel this, hear the sounds of tears sometimes…

It overwhelms me;

Took until my teens to realize not every feels the

The agony of others misery;

Past, present, future…

Within the cities

Frustration and anger

Imparted unknowingly;

Wear the pathos of children’s lives,

Unable to thrive in daily fear;

Heard acutely in my heart, in my body, tears in my art.

Over the western plains one day,

I just cried for the vain

Fragments of feeling left on the land

Filled with deep mourning…

The ghosts of the people, animals

Land, now devoid of life

For few shrubs can grow in grief.

The silent emotions,

I know them as my own,

I can almost touch the poignant memories.

They are so loud, so clear,silent

Songs of sorrow.

These imprints,

Unfelt by many

Still seep into the unconscious

And filter into lives unknowingly;

Harm us all.

I am trying to verbalize,

What went weeping

In despair,..

Those unswift deaths,

All the lives stolen

By history, by conquest, by the madness of violence.

Suffering.

Fresh and old,

Blood lies still on the land.

In the stokes of human gain;

Others died, lived and left a terrible pain

Saturated into our suffering earth.

Our World Mother grieves.

As I do,

And anyone that can hear this carnage, still

Speaking so loudly into the silence.