It’s Clear

On a clear night

I should see the moon full silver

in a sky shot by moonbeams.

Not greyed by a smoky mist 

and dust clouds rising from the ruins.

I should see a black, black sky.

Not bright from the orange glow

from the fires of hell on earth.

Which send sparks high enough

to compete with the stars,

the pinpoint moonbeam spangles.

Not beamed by lasers.

I should hear the silence 

in the depth of the black night,

not the explosive cacophony

bought by the masters of war

and the silent screams

buried in the rubble.

I should hear people talking in the street

and the music and laughter of the night.

I should see them walking home

to feel firm flesh loving and soft

unsplintered and unblemished by shrapnel,

unbroken by the metal clad monsters

masquerading as humanity and

wrapping themselves in the uniforms 

of thousand years old myths

dressed up as history.

These should be my rights.

But they aren’t.

I have no rights.

Nor do you.

Only what they give us,

the men of the flags,

temporally.

https://edgeofhumanity.com/2024/08/02/poems-by-lynn-white/