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.
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