DIRGE OF A BATTERED NATION

For this, the clay grew tall?

I think as political landscapes crumble

As the fast food employee,

with a college degree,

grumbles.

Into this?

Into the vision of empty factories and shattered glass

Into cafes where no longer,

We talk with one another.

Into fist fights that end in shootings and knifings

Born into this?

Into hospitals so expensive, it’s cheaper to die

Into a land that shakes with explosions

And vibrates with each war cry

Walking and living through this

Dying because of this

The republica fell,

and the clay grew tall