The Gristmill
A frigid landscape casts a bitter pall
over a barren nation of weary souls
imprisoned and laden under a regime
of hammer and sickle, numb and cold.
Regimented are the eyes of oppression
unblinking, endlessly watching
scrutinizing, searching, ever searching
grinding down the will, receding hope.
The slow wheel of the gristmill turns
burden of stone, its authority crushes
the spirit. Who can break this
massive millstone, treading over
the tormented masses?
A desperate angst arises to rid the
wretched bile that contaminates the land
strike down the carnivorous bear
and with sheer will and determination
break the terrible gristmill of tyranny.
Written on 5/22/2018
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2018
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