Thought To Sit Still Poem by Richard Jarboe

Our strength was thought to sit still,
Like a mountain thought to be our will,
Somewhere between the trees and the bayou,
Looking man-ward like all good hellions do.

Our political union was assembled and mute,
A typical mountainous substitute,
The same as we were centuries ago,
Flogged top to bottom to fathoms below.

And as the business men made their rounds,
With general advise all out of bounds,
We felt our safety slide away,
As we watched warships and transports slip into the bay.

There were culprits and agents lining the street,
Where patrons and prostitutes were enslaved to meet,
Some sailors showed up to say farewell,
While others dragged others a little deeper into hell.

Invisible to the gamblers placing their bet,
Lost in amnesia they could never forget,
Envoys were sent packing, holding hands in retreat,
Pure fiction their reason for the most recent defeat.