The last trump: a poem in anger


Red rains fall from baleful eyes
Scorching the shaken earth with acrid bile
And venom. All things die, then rise, then die again
A thousand times a thousand times and more.
Who killed the world? Who raped and murdered sovereign hope?
What never was cannot be great again, your hate again
Seeps from your pores and stains your face and hands
The colour of rotting meat. Rot, then, as soon you will.
From your carcass we will make fertiliser. And we will grow,
And put down roots, and spread our branches out in spite of you.
Your time is now, your seconds counting down.
The stench of your ill wind shall pass away, and the air will sing
Of promise once again.  Look upon your works, you mighty,
And despair.

About Wrycrow

Queer nerdy Pagan librarian, training with Druid College UK.
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