2024-12-12

& still the dead rage in unmarked graves
churning under pockmarked fields of hundred-rows

where grass & politicians shift shoulders & widows
& mothers breathe names the world too soon forgets

while another fighter strafes a presidential palace
& spreads the joy of freedom with muddy boots

as if to say bullets are always cheaper
than a thousand thousand lives cut short

& the man freed from beneath the prison blanket
stumbles into light & shakes & shakes under open sky