The Pyramid
The high rises in New York
Pierce through mist & clouds,
An eagle flutters over
A glittering Taj Mahal,
An 828-metre tall Burj Khalifa,
African safaris, River Congo,
The Nile, nuclear warheads & summits…
But where are you, benevolence?
Are you constructing yourself
Into a colossal pyramid,
In the middle of some forest?
And is that you, compassion,
Rising beneath a mist of a loud call
For a civil war?
…..
A New Pot
The face that pulls my sight
To the center of the crowd,
Is to me akin to a new pot
Among broken ones.
He shouts, twice;
‘You cannot beat that sick woman,
What if she loses the child?’
His voice rising above the scattered
Laughter from the squad of young soldiers,
Jumping three handcuffed young men
& Two women.
Is it what he said,
Or the shiny insignia at the shoulder
Of his new army uniform,
That makes him appear magnificent
To me?
…..
Before Bees
Perhaps, you were not here or near to speak,
Before the first goat was turned into steak
Beside a bowl full of red pears & dark-yellow peaches,
When a dog, a pal of man, got run over by a van,
Before bees were first robbed of their sweet glee,
And scattered to flee or rage on a stinging spree.
But now you are here
– watching bombs mistake gun-less women & children
For Hamas in Gaza;
To see people, flee froms rubble of hospital beds…
But now, you giggle & shuffle
As Putin orders Ukraine into a buffet of bubbles.
…..
Poetry © Marial Awendit
Image: Anthony Pixabay remixed