Bullets And Bombs Of Greed

Bullets And Bombs Of Greed
© Surazeus
2024 01 31

If I just focus on beauty of Nature, 
describing how plants spiral around the sun 
in struggle through darkness toward warming light, 
and celebrate their budding after snow, 
I could ignore people in many lands 
getting killed by bullets and bombs of greed. 

I could stroll without care in hilly woods 
that sparkle with eerie strangeness of frost 
where life and death both mingle in tree roots, 
and not think about people getting killed, 
thousands of young children orphaned and maimed 
by men wielding bullets and bombs of greed. 

I would stand on shore of dark mountain lake 
and shout my agony to empty sky, 
expressing sorrow of my helpless heart 
that mothers and children with hope for life 
are getting blasted under rubbled homes 
by laughter from bullets and bombs of greed. 

I want to stand in glade of shifting light 
beneath broad canopy of wind-kissed leaves 
and listen to various birds declare love 
instead of people running maze of ruins 
who scream from horror at shadow of death 
erupting from bullets and bombs of greed. 

Deep in my heart of birds that flutter wings 
to fly from coldness of indifferent snow 
I hear singing strength of the country ghost 
that sparks wildflowers up from root and seed 
while people just like me in distant lands 
are still killed by bullets and bombs of greed. 

I stroll the winding Appalachian Trail 
along core strength of vast nation I love 
where only deer and wolves inhabit woods 
to welcome refugees from war-torn lands 
whose faceless ghosts haunt my lonely footsteps 
to escape swift bullets and bombs of greed. 

The disused graveyard draws me to its lawn 
where I read names on stones worn down by rain 
with clever quip that people hate to die 
so we can savor beauty of this world 
for even people safe in peaceful lands 
might be killed by bullets and bombs of greed. 

They dwell in ghost house of forgotten hopes, 
people killed in dozens of distant wars, 
for no trace of their homes on signless roads 
remains but ruined fragments of their lives 
except for photos that flare into birds 
created by bullets and bombs of greed.