Cold Spring
The world is tumbling...
A child’s plaything
Down a bottomless stairwell.
Broken pieces
In all directions fall
With every resounding bounce,
Every crashing thud.
Devil kicked the hornets’ nest
Into an ant anthill
For his twisted pleasure,
His foul laughter
Shaking continents.
Powers that be
Negotiate at gunpoint,
While mothers flee their homes
Clutching babes.
Starving
Dogs of war,
They snarl and twist
In rabid dance
Over old bones.
This little blue planet
Grows too small
For all our bloated egos.
No one
Cares to see bare truth,
Each dresses her
In personal brand of facts
And decorates in lace
Of popular opinion.
Everyone,
With righteous convictions,
Is expert on a path to peace,
While nuclear bullets
Stare each other down,
toe-to-toe.
We tear ourselves to pieces,
Consuming flesh of enemies,
Only to realize,
It tastes of brotherly love.
After cacophony
Of shots and voices fades,
And silence blankets
Wrecked bones of cities.
The churned soil will forgive
And gift
New flowers
Where heavy shoes of battle
Have stomped.
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2022
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