This Poem was Submitted By: R. Lee Buckley On Date: 2001-10-29 14:11:26 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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All bare-bones dry, sharp crags, bleak sky; With wailing winds where women cry For children lost - starvation's stamp Of victory - in each wandering camp. Sure pity is a stranger here And death, an honor, naught to fear. For weathered bodies, stoney minds, But mirror landscapes of same kind. In isolation, self-imposed, Each bitter spirit is exposed. And men debase themselves in strife; Condemn as chattle daughter, wife. Land without hope for, to survive, All must submit before the lie That might is right and men control All things, all thoughts, each empty soul. Compassionless, both men and land, Implacable they each will stand Against the tide of change and die Before they'll, ever, love apply!

Copyright © October 2001 R. Lee Buckley

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