The world is still and the wind makes no sound,
the river forgets to run
Fredom just one more leap.
The trees have seemed to stop growing at all,
the grass turned yellow
and I can see through the wall of next door.
Guns lay empty by dead bodies, kid’s toys are broken
and I can still smell the rotting flesh around me.
The mushroom bomb or so they say
was the best way to clean this land
but how much cleaning does it take?
to make them see it is not worth the cost
of all living things.
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Comments about this poem (War by maria goodison )
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