My Voice
His Father's Son
His father's son
We bent
over
and he walked across
our trust
using his father's spine
to stand upright.
Daybreaks and
keeps on breaking
across green fields
where peace is fouled
by the stench of vindication.
Terror
weaves itself
in shades of
of orange and red
through CNN.
and,our collective conscience,
bathed in oil,
latches on to duct tape
and patriotism
while
veiled casualties
remain unheard,
but old men can
rest in peace.
Mary
We bent
over
and he walked across
our trust
using his father's spine
to stand upright.
Daybreaks and
keeps on breaking
across green fields
where peace is fouled
by the stench of vindication.
Terror
weaves itself
in shades of
of orange and red
through CNN.
and,our collective conscience,
bathed in oil,
latches on to duct tape
and patriotism
while
veiled casualties
remain unheard,
but old men can
rest in peace.
Mary
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His Father`s Son
His Father`s Son
