| By brian francis You can see this shattered place Its bones still lay upon the land Orderly rows of columns rise Obelisks throughout it all Memorials of this place of horrors Where the meek huddled Awaiting their demise You can imagine them walking bye Letting a hand brush the bricks As they pass Trains have left their tracks behind Detached from the mainline Like a limb amputated for its cancer Still, the great gate stands welcoming Its edifice the shame of a nation A secret side door into hades The starved flesh worn Innocents The chosen; cinders and mass graves Echoes with the cries of sorrow and sadness Tears fall now for the idea that was thought How could it be done Gone are the guards who fled in shame Images in black and white reveal insights Sardines, barely able to lift their heads When Hammer and sickle brought liberty Seasoned soldiers used to death Cried and bawled at the real truth Man’s sins anoint us all in here We walk away with nightmares dancing Upon our minds as we feel the cancer Our garment becomes shame Copyright © 2020 brian francis |
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Wordsmith: At The Forge 