Notes About The Poem
http://here-there-poetry.co.uk/web/deborah-guzzi-3/
Vive La Liberte
False winter—deceitful—fuels the unrest.
Paris preyed upon; men’s anger coalesced;
guns frame the debate.
Pride and despair fan the unholy flame.
The dispossessed grab weapons and take aim,
do words or actions desecrate?
Twelve dead in Paris—and a free press denied,
mourn for the loss, when faith and guns collide.
To men with no life, there’s only death.
Fathers and mothers, daughters and sons cry;
the workings of men leave no time for goodbye.
Shout, “Vive la liberté” with each breath.
False warmth stirs a hornet’s nest, of dispossessed
on Boulevard Richard le Noir, hate crests.
Guns frame the debate.
Words are warriors, oh there’s might in the pen
what do men die for—ideas council men.
Loss, want, and hate dictate.
With bombs, knives, and guns Europe-wide
strike concern where complacence was decried:
no homes, no jobs, unrest,
societal problems in oversupply.
Your eyes, open your eyes, the dead cry.
There must be more than death.
First Published in here/there magazine UK 2015
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