Trading Blows
Market
traders in war are grim reapers
Of the
spoils, snatching the ground from under
The feet of
those living there, torn asunder
By rhetoric,
and leaders who’re keepers
Of their
nations’ destiny. People, who
Have far
more in common than what divides,
Acquiesce to
being on opposing sides
By accepting
that their just war is true.
Logic and
reason having been displaced,
The
bombed-out impotently sit and curse,
Wishing
those named enemies receive worse:
So does
human potential go to waste.
That’s how
it must be forever and all,
Until people
choose life and take control.
D. A.
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