What We've Done….
What we've done to the sound of the cricket
singing at the silent clear moon?
At the swinging of the honey tree that flavour the air?
Islands sail at the wind, never leaving the shore
where the past it is like prints of footsteps on the beach
disappearing, washed away by tide of dreams and lullaby.
Variety of life’s floating, TVs sounds
Echoing in paradises of stone
By the time transformed
Replaced by dome that we called home
I was a monster dress in child skins
With Indian silks and eyes of war
Choking at the shine of the sun through the mill eye
I found my tender moments while walking, smoking fast
My hope to last at the vibration of a bow that it been stretched
Shape like a blue king saviour
And now I'm greedy and savaged
Hanging on carousel of faiths
What we've done, we've ripped apart?
Like roses, petals by petals, left only with stalks and thorns
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Comments about this poem (What We've Done…. by Luca Menin )
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