Member-only story
Politicians are Invoking the Old Gods Again
A poem
Politicians are invoking the old gods again
I can speak only in heartbreak
A child’s blood spilled on dry earth
Hellscapes summoned on holy ground
Retribution and eyes for eyes after eyes
I wonder how cycles of hatred cease, while power pours its fuel on flames, a deep complex of profit amidst pain
I weep while the world expounds its explanations
Opportunities for ‘I told you so’s’, ideology runs amok
Meanwhile, the innocent still die, trauma seen in the toddler’s eyes
I retreat, I’m not desensitised, it breaks me and as I try to sleep, the images sit behind my eyes
A coward perhaps, I know not what should be done but my heart still beats and longs for peace
My pain is minute in comparison and yet I can feel the world weeping
Weeping for the destruction of promised futures
For brighter tomorrows, for the breaking of cycles
I see myself in those fathers carrying their children through the streets, I know those eyes and I fear for the tributaries that channel that pain