IGNOMINY

I sing a song of the clear blue skies,
with no cloud of smoke, no roaring plane.
I sing a song of the vibrant meadows,
not the barren lands, whose sons are slain.

I sing a song of the glowing faces,
not the chagrined ones of the ravished women.
I sing a song of the happy cheers,
not the cries of the weak that go in vain.

I sing a song of the morning dew,
not the torrential rain of blood and fire.
I sing a song of the newborn child,
not the corpses piled up on a pyre.

Sitting here under a calm moonlit sky,
against the line of skyscrapers;
what do I know
of the homes ablaze, the hungry days,
the rising smoke, the dying hope,
the parching thirst, the scorching heat?
Apathetic, aloof, away from all,
I sing a song of my own defeat.


~Damit~

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