Transformation teases of its landfall and its toll.
Can only sit there stone-faced; carry the weight in soul.
Impossible to trace a line, make mark of head or tail;
But even years of steady siege has defining assail.

And so we taste starvation;
Await the trumpets sound.
Attempt to swim in turbulence,
Be bent before we drown. 

  • Author: Quemis (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 4th, 2022 17:05
  • Comment from author about the poem: ...
  • Category: Unclassified
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  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.


  • L. B. Mek

    such a tightly woven work of poetic commentary
    with such seamless flow and natural rhythm..
    a quenching drink, in a read
    thank you! dear Poet

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