In the midst of it all, I stood alone
In the laughter and the traffic of the day.
I could not bring myself to call the names,
Nor could I, be a martyr, to atone
For the sins which i supported in my Heart,
Those unnamed persons who have died for me
Like fish netted from the endless sea
Their blood is paint that makes my fragile Art
I wish this poem had the ring of salvation,
Because my
Days
are numbered
as yours
But something better
Than the Bland
Protest of complacency
Should haunt our conscience.
Technorati Tags: poem, easter,
In the laughter and the traffic of the day.
I could not bring myself to call the names,
Nor could I, be a martyr, to atone
For the sins which i supported in my Heart,
Those unnamed persons who have died for me
Like fish netted from the endless sea
Their blood is paint that makes my fragile Art
I wish this poem had the ring of salvation,
Because my
Days
are numbered
as yours
But something better
Than the Bland
Protest of complacency
Should haunt our conscience.
Technorati Tags: poem, easter,
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