Dust and Ash

The men with the bundles of sticks

Came and went and have come again

They’ve come to restore a mythic strength lost,

Through blood, for blood

They’ve come to rebuild a legendary home fallen

Our soil! Our soil! They say

They’ve come to take all

As an offering to their dead god of perfection

Who is to stop them but us?

When is to stop them but now?

Their sticks may break our bones,

But the Red rage of our inferno will

Leave them but the dust and ash

That will nourish our trees.


◄ Puppet Master


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keith jeffries

Mon 19th Oct 2020 08:48

A poem of some depth which has, I believe, a strong personal element to it.


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