Purge the Poisoned Land
The land lies sick.
Its fever rages, but diagnosis wrong-
misread by hands that lie.
Cure the disease
at its poisoned root.
Let the tainted flow be purified,
then watch it rise.
No balm can soothe
till graft's stain is purged.
Purge the venom first -
free her from corruption's grip.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
