Sandbag

At last, the day of reckoning,
For denial of the truth,
Lay in broken bones to be,
As the weary light soon soothes
Itself -- to sleep and take rest.

Then, the blazing eyes spark hope
In the birthing ember flames
Of torches in your hands
And red murk in your heart and claims
-- That makes the feet atop the land
Stomp like sounding beasts,
Lusting over blood to spill,
And fill their greed to full.

You lay us near the stand of wood,
Chain our limbs, rope our backs,
Bend our wills, no push nor pull,
Only smite upon the innocent
Life that do wish
To free themselves from bondage.
Unlike the thought you hide,
Not unlike the hoarding avarice.

But be that as it may,
No fears left, no pride.
Only anger and vengeance,
With tears like a river.
No more shock to quiver,
From -- and to back down
Is a choice testament
To the wise strategist
And the crestfallen.
However, we retaliate.

Our bravery awaits the dawn
For our spirit has grown.
You took to the streets
And left us pilloried,
Breathing in defeat.
Now, listen to our voices.
We have done nothing wrong.
Go ahead, throw your stones!
Leave us with broken,
Cracked, and shattered bones.

But when the deeds end,
Sounds of hearsay
Shall hit the ears of earth.
As the sun rises,
The moon is not your witness
For the truth shall resurface.
And our faces shall be seen
In dreams, in guilt, in glowing ashes.

In Delta
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 03/26/2021

Poet's note: A piece finished on March 16, 2021. It was just a thought that came to me while I was reading something.
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