We Are A Scoop Of Dust
Well trained minds a kill to make
Leave a dust storm in their wake
The older brains before have gone
Illuminated their names still shone
Invite a rounder table to begin
Each a fair chance of suffering
Listen how a soul of hope and fear
Do things to keep loved ones near
Stand a sword right by our door
As wind pour dirt to wash our floor
Train our eyes down to the dust
On our knees scoop it if we must
Time rubs lives of time gone past
Grains of fight who gave their last
Trained red hands hold nothing new
Time's hands tick on dust like you
Arno Le Roux 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem