The Death of Pacifism

The Death of Pacifism

Here we grew
Orphaned out of love
Inebriated by history

Gloating about our potential
This youth of arrow and sword
This strength that will wane

This beauty that will cusp
From mother married to grief
And father sworn to selfishness

Here we dreamed of fathers
And wished for harbour-mates
With a body of writing like a balm
An outflung prayer to stars
The temptation to never write again

And cowards to barely truly live
That was our moment
An underground rebellion of one
An innocence endured like purity
A poverty knelt in the spirituality

Of simplicity, did we grow foolish
Or were we simply ignorant, uneducated
Too trusting of a wicked world?

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