Time.
The city awakens,
the sound of it breaking the
silence of December's dismal night,
wheels in motion, destiny
revolving a circular kind of death.
Oh, wilderness,
plastic gods in plastic battles,
throwaway society,
feed the hungry with the dead
Monsanto killed the seed,
farmers reap no benefits,
only words
blowing in the fallow wind...
Oh, Jerusalem,
this poem is not for you,
divided, you are conquered
from within
and if there is a God,
and if in his name
there grows the tree of life,
"Thy will be done", my prayer without ceasing,
I don't believe in God, do you?
Comments
hello Anna,
I found this poem (and title) to be very profound. Of all the lines, I can relate to these easily:
Oh, wilderness,
plastic gods in plastic battles,
throwaway society,
feed the hungry with the dead
Monsanto killed the seed,
farmers reap no benefits,
only words
blowing in the fallow wind...
but tell me please, who or what is Monsanto? Is it a chemical company?
what I like best about your poems is, they take me places I haven't been and are expertly expressed. Thank you.
always, Cat