What Of Life? Poem by O.S. Brooks

What of life my precious child,
causes you to push your little palms toward heaven
in hope to create freedom.


I've Seen freedom.


She threw kisses at the morning and caressed the moments after
while spitting bullets at steel structures and envoking heaven's rapture
We wrote poems on peace
Yet, peace didn't wonder the streets
with m16's atleast, we got rid of the beast
and created monsters


I've Seen peace.


She held pronoun rallies with bullet belts over left shoulders
while her soldiers 'Right Faced' toward East Street
marching proud toward Winston Ave
until the change made verbs seek action.

My actions spoke louder than words,
The night my world changed on this earth
My words grew stronger than hers
Her soul faced a world full of hurt

We sparked long awaited connections
and got to life's source where time seemed twisted around the finger of an infant.
The land was changed in an instant
My goodbyes where human-sized and all my love demenished.

Six hundred neighbors stepped forth meditating alter prayers while we held strong to Jesus.
Their protest grew deadly with anger.
We knew no one would believe us
So pictures framed the danger, as bullets burned through air, the night fell fast upon the unit, the last time they were here. So trumpets sound at funerals, while wifes cry loud in pain, and we stand still to solute those, who died the violent way.

The poet within me asked why,
Why do you push so hard forward
Toward the storm clouds forming over Jordan
If we can't change the weather
If we can't save a life
If we can't please our father
If our wrongs can't bring right

I've Seen Right

She dragged me over Kobal mountains
Till I wanted nothing more.

Till my back was broke and my hands were war torn

We sang fifty songs in that direction five times daily
And nothing ever came of it.

They sat in their one room hut and struggled
They struggled as if the weather was against them
And the cold was her cousin
They froze that winter without father
He left as fathers do
Taken while standing for his own personal freedom

I slept with the empty feelings of regret, neglect, and disappointment for giving the order.

Sunlight crept through their dessert palmed walls and added heat to their shelter

They hated the american soldier
For shutting down their temple
For making times grow colder
For tank trails over sacred symbols

Now, I too press my own version of palmed papyrus toward adversities knowing...
there is more to life
there is more than death