The Morning After

When I awoke on Sunday
I heard a vicious god
had grabbed the balance of power.

Must we live in a world
that fear and greed made
where the lives of the sick, poor and wrongfully imprisoned
can all be ticked away?

To see the future
look in to the past
small, mean and miserable
a picture called “the crucible”
where bodies pile up
in reach of a single crumb.

Democracy, freedom, rights?
No, we choose the neanderthal path.
Now here we are club clubbing the parched earth
“ugh” we’re crying “ where is the water”
“ugh ugh” we moan “why are our throats scratched dry”

Remember “country, brotherhood, peace…”
The horizon is burning to ashes
and the original people
are silently shaking their heads.
They have tried
so many times to warn us,
we, who never deserved
an ounce of their compassion.

We will have nothing but the grey ones
we choose to rule us
and the smallest man
who sold our massive sky
for his false dreaming.

Before long,
the shackles will be locked back on
the compass fixed north
and the boats filled
with sinking dreams.
Sara Moss