| |
To see an American death,
see the bitter green, acrid smoke and fumes
from belching, sprawling, raw-edged factories.
See the tired, greasy figures in shabby overalls,
muted, smothered, caged automatons,
the cigarette shufflers of their generation.
See the bitter green air, foul, toxic, stinking,
belching outward from the sprawling factories.
See the tired, greasy workers, muted,
behind leaden gates that are closing
on the scalding haze, gloom choking life out.
You will see skeletal death passing within.
There are hearts aching with dull grief tonight,
for another life was claimed.
They search for, and find, memories, unanswered love,
and tears fall unbidden, carrying their sorrow to the grave.
But their spirits forever
seek and find the light.
They, suffering another American death,
have their torn shroud, full of holes,
their cloak for all their sorrows,
which is mended with silken thread,
and full of tepid tears.
Scarlett Treat
|
|
User Rating: |
|
7.0
/10
(15 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend