From my journal, a poem titled “Liberators of Eden”:

How dost thou lay on fruitful meadows green,
While thou dost wear a tranquil, steady mien?
Thy scythe doth reap what blameless lot hath sown.
On those fields of burden, those fields of stone
To liberate; to warden.
O liberator, canst thou truly see?
Our kings and queens are despots, so they seem,
And yet our mouths are fed, our futures keen.
Thou dost lay claim upon our evergreens.
As flowers wilt, and songbirds cease.