Why do you march before me today,
Stake in your hand, reservations at bay?
You come before me like a half- starved cat,
Fangs are glinting, sharp and fat.
I exist but offer you no harm,
And yet it it is towards hatred which you warm.
Come closer, I urge you, let down your sword,
Even though as you look at me,
I know you hear not one word.
Windowless Warlord, who knows nothing of sun,
Can you not see what you have become?
Together, long ago, we once shared this life,
Now you struggle to hold my own at a knife.
You breathe, you splutter, you bow, you ache,
For you and I know both what is at stake.
Open your windows, I do declare.
Let the seething rush away like a cold winter air.
Do it before it eats you alive,
With sharp picks, forks and knives.
But perhaps, indeed, it is too late,
As you stare at your fate
In the eye.
The half-smiles are gone now,
For you are merely a human shell
Of what you once were.
Breathe for me still,
Life is hollow and empty,
But shaped at our will.
It is soft like putty or hard like stone,
Curved and bent like a trellis which has grown
Through the darkness of night and the lightness of life.
Windowless Warlord, I heed you to look around,
Hold still for a moment, patient and bound
By the sounds of singing and laughter abound.
May you change your perspective,
For without it you are nought.
Your anger, such anger, is no more than fear,
The very emotion which will tear
Through your ribcage, a stray bullet
Which will come out no less for wear.
And you, its victim
Left to tremble
In the dust.
Windowless Warlord, you must remember
That what you do now will stay here forever,
Like a ravine cut by a river.
You shiver now, as I understand
A windowless warlord will not bend to demand.
I will leave you at the window now,
Quiet and still,
Hoping only that you shall not think of me ill.