The War Cry

Freelance Poet Author

Poetry WriterThe sands are creeping in.
Familiar and lost, but now reconciled.
Have we not the strength to dig it away from us?

Egyptian kings etched into their pyramids,
of Egyptian battles lost in foreign sands.
They didn’t have their own reasons,
which they lost through asking no questions.

The tears are rolling by in lonely surroundings.
Forgotten, but missed.
Have we not the strength to wipe them away from us?

Indian prayers whirl up in their smoke,
of ancient tribes fighting for their lands.
They never found their own bodies,
which they lost when seeking their lives.

The creeping sands are in.
Soundless voices enclose what’s now reconciled.
Have we not the strength to learn history among us?

African past printed in bones,
of African crimes committed by ancestors.
Could not find their own motives,
which they lost explaining their greed.

The sands have all sunken.
Yet again, we head for war.

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