Reflection Ii Poem by Mike Barrett
Reflection Ii
Seems it like
Around the earth
A cruel
And iron fist
Now fallen?
Sense we not
Its closing grasp?
Pressure.
Silent.
Unseen.
Ever-growing.
We rest,
Do nothing.
Vaguely aware
Of something but of what?
The fingers move
In tightening.
Thus is the essence of man
Squeezed from his collective body?
Yes?
Sorry God -
Here,
YOUR breakfast juice!
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/8/2024 12:35:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
