Days
In those days Nation spoke war unto nation The unknown soldiers Rose as ghosts from their graves As silent spectral witnesses To the ending Of all futures And in those days Spirit spoke venom unto spirit And clove each other open On the sword blades they'd fashioned From ploughshares Until the going down of the sun And nobody remembered them And in those days Relation spoke hate unto relation Until the only breath That stirred Was the wind scattering dust In empty halls And abandoned rooms
There was a song by the Propeller Heads, featuring Shirley Bassey called a ‘Little Bit of History Repeating Itself’…
The hands of the clock spin
passing twelve twice a day
lessons we learned wiped away.
.
There will be a time when mankind sees swords and wishes for ploughs,
but it seems it is not today.
.
So the ground will lay fallow,
unploughed, watered in scarlet by those who will never see noon again, held in perpetual midnight.
.
Again, we will gnash teeth and wail for the lessons unlearned as the hands continue to spin regardless.
Thank you for sharing, such bleakness expressed so beautifully.