Morning sun spotlighting his face squinting into the rays
Accepting soon he will be done and up into the heavens
Or the last slap down and not remembering the end of everything
His hands tied behind his back and keeping himself rigid
Defiant and never a whimper for their satisfaction
They must know he’s innocent or do they not care
They are only fingertips to the triggers
Alone now he is the latest prisoner being filmed
For later use smearing him on the world’s news stations
While they eat their crackers and rice and chocolate pudding
He refuses the blindfold and stares straight into their eyes
They can blink but he will always be stuck in their memory
Returning in dreams and repeating over and over the message
Love is our only hope of continuance
Above and out of sight in the dawning light
The stars staring down at them
Taking aim
Just awaiting the Word
Ready to stuff out the last snip of arrogance
Those behind the soldiers
Hiding in their great towers… believing they control this world.
Bio-
Not so long ago, Stephen Jarrell Williams was called by some, the Great Poet of Doom… Now, he writes at night, enthused, and waiting for the Coming Good Dawn.
I am not a silent poet 