Towers grow by many hands, shining light
On mysterious till its ways are told,
Others left further from its base and sight
Subsist within its shadows as of old.
Towers of weapons in poverty grow
High tech efficient protects each regime,
Siege and starvation strikes the best blow, and
'Neath silent walls, babes still die unseen.
Words tower over First World seas of me
Where science research as fractals provides,
Awareness grows to share kindness and wealth
But self-interest remains to divide.
We can rise to lift those in other lands,
But ever without some blood on our hands?
Danny Draper
21/9/2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem