Letters To Leaders Poem by Vincent Feliciano

As we dragged our feet across her many moons,
spelling the names of people we knew
we stole the time, the place, the dreams
and stood our ground around the streams
hoping to see salvation pass
so we could say we died with class

Was there ever a reason to let it die
it would have to wait till winter's cry
when all our sins would hibernate
for seasons free to copulate
the treasons we ignored
yes, we few
who remained who
saw their glory
defamed