Syria

You now would think Khadaffi falling From the stool was first the shaping For the world to come. Listen Loudly the silent deaths of forest leaves falling abroad From Sudan to Syria, pen The Arab spring wilted in the blind Syrian discord It is not black and white any more The tangled thread dropped at our door Ends go north and south, then west Neither in religion or puzzled economics Does the burden bends a mind lest From the busy covert trend of paltry politics Counting bodies is collateral To the objective rational Appeal, I am non-inclined To trade past doublecross for a paradigm of justice A southern season slow resigned From its own vision must drink of drizzled chaos plus this. Syria, the ears are sleeping On the hill, truth's promise breaking Where fall the riot's dead bell To the stoking furnace bring broken tongue in callous tears We forge for heaven such a hell A limp the cadaver of dreams across the slanted years.