I am a blue wolf with blood-eyes

I long to lift my homeland high,
To lie upon its earth and sigh.
A poet never truly dies,
Their heart remains where love resides.

With my people, I've shared their glee,
Their struggles, too, have lived in me.
For every thorn that pricks my land,
I’d take its sting with my own hand.

Those who shame my cherished home,
Bloodthirsty tyrants, free to roam.
Enemies of peace and grace,
You’ve darkened this once-proud place.

The echoes of unrest still chime,
Why did you strike, and commit this crime?
My homeland now feels like a jail,
Above, a prison; below, a grave’s trail.

I sigh, enraged, for my sacred soil,
I weep for my nation, lost in turmoil.
I am a blue wolf, with eyes bloodshot,
Vengeance boiling, ready to be shot!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace