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Feb 2018
on highways, rails, rivers and trails
we cut open the prairie wild
to poison our mother and bleed her dry
blind to the consequence

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless streets

where fences hang from twisted crosses
crucifying pages torn
from our fathers' histories
we'd rather soon forget

these fine white lines confine me
on shameless, blameless streets

when cold winds come blowing backward
and freeze the spaces in between
will our children know have this earth
if we do not know mercy?

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless, shameless, blameless streets
Ben K
Written by
Ben K  25/M/Omaha
(25/M/Omaha)   
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