Forty years felt this land
Green
But how the  carrions caress
Its shores, pollution stains
In all the halls
Where hang the priveledged
Like bats in the light.
Without vision or right.

With cupped hands the meak
Hold out the remains of the
Saint's words, crying why?
And the challis falls until
Failing retribution they, too,
Break hour for the truth
For carelessness is unbearable
Sorrow.

Love Mary x