Cenotaph

Are we not all dying soldiers
waring against life,
time – its bullets by the second dodged
doggedly as steps make the days go by?

Are we not all soft earth,
dirt slowly turning from
dusk to stone as dusk
gives way to glorious dawn?

Are we not more than the names
etched on concrete,
fledglings before flight,
birds before feathers,
hoping the weather’s right;
bats before night,
assailed by the day;
knights before the fray
seeking passion’s delights
before the play?

Are we not the walls that separate
the words that divide,
the boxes that define,
confine,
coffin-e?

We are, growing out of the boulders we create,
the peace we destroy,
out of the words we chose employ,
the hands we forsake
and hearts we shake (or stake).

QUAKE!! for unless we change we’ll stay.

© Denis Adide 2013

 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s