Walkin on Air

The Feud

Bow-twangs snap
reverberate through the night,
arrows swish and
slither death in random flight:
none are safe
none can be sheltered
umber colored huts burn
shale roofs crash:
demons tear, rip and slash;  
encumbered with confusion condone
the carnage,  
assuming  just retribution is to thoroughly atone:
a village haven salutes
unseen tips of pain, loss, and foul play,
history's didactic recurrence
decimates mortals and flay
to coerce for imagined gain…

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The Feud

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