Parade Of The Generations Poem by Joanna Gonzalez

We were young, we were proud;
They stood up then bowed down.
We can’t see the glory in their faces,
But they see ours.
They acclaim us, they revel in our place,
But we forget them.
We march on and neglect those who praise us;
Without even a glance to their expressions,
Without a word for their ears,
With no remembrance of their past;
Who are they?
These strangers who know us so well,
Who watch us as if we were their own.
With humble eyes they look weary,
With wrinkled skin they look aged.
It is no longer their time, why are they here?
These strangers with affection,
With all eyes on us, scrutinizing our every move.
They lower themselves more and more,
Until they crouch and disappear.
Ashes, what these strangers now are;
What they have become.
How will they be remembered?
We march, we don’t stop;
We are the present generation
The ancient has gone, the modern has come;
The youth of the world, yet the most wicked.
Our pride, our strength has turned against us.
We see our faces, we don’t know ourselves.
Our power turns to hate,
Our hate turns to chaos.
We, who once stood tall
Spill our own bloodshed.
The rumbling, the shaking;
It does not come from us this time,
But from the others; those who we will look upon.
The new generation
We kill for their sake.
With apathy in their faces, they march where we marched.
We were now the strangers;
With our wrinkled skin and weary eyes;
We praise them as we perish.
We acclaim them and revel in their place.
We see the glory in their faces,
But they don’t see ours.
They forget us.
Ashes, what we now are.
This new generation, what will they become?