Mob

Guided by emotion,
We make the rush to Judgment
Torches burning in a rage,
We seek the harshest punishment 

The freak, the monster -
Trapped in the windmill -
He's our ready target
In a field of insecurity,
We confine him to the margins

Blinded by emotion,
We preclude all sense of reason
Our base natures, stirred to unrest 
We storm in angry legions 

The mob, the crowd -
Our weapons drawn -
Our minds made up absolutely
The dissenter's opinion and heresy 
Hanged from the tree of scrutiny 

Tell me, when did we join this mob? 
And shouldn't we cancel our membership?
Our primitive urges and intolerant thoughts
Find our higher selves in their grip
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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