Читать книгу Splitting the Moon - Joel Hayward - Страница 10

Arab Spring

Hands clenched, passions wrenched

Hearts ablaze, these days of rage

Shouts in the air, pauses for prayer

Streets, squares, mosques, theirs

Hearts freed, knees bleed,

Proud, aloud, unbowed crowd

Freedom sought, its shape unthought

Unknown ideal, substance not real

Grass is greener, democracy leaner

Cigarette smoking, despots choking

Forgotten youth and unseen truth

Confused eyes, fleeing spies, sons’ lies

Streets, squares, no longer theirs

Ranting, railing, panting, flailing

Heads full of pain, nothing to gain

Power grasping, compromise asking

Opportunity lost, everything cost

Posterity crushing and the end fast rushing