It feels
sometimes
like raising
a lamb to slaughter
so thoroughly have we
spoiled the pasture
poisoned the water
so willilingly have we
fed the hungry
field of the potter
so gayly have we
shed the sacrifice
of our forefathers
and
in the name of
the father
worked to enslave
the bodies of
our mothers
so carelessly have we
tread the crumbling path
of our empires falter
littered its course
with the shredded pages
of the history that
would have taught her
to be weary of the wolf
and
keep ready her blade
should those howling devils
come hunting
why is it that we
so fear
her laughter