Look away, look away

Grey man of clay

when I was two

was I as guilty as you?

Vengeance in that day

osmotic through time

percolates into this rhyme

When I was four

Did I greet servitude

at the door?

Comes the day

freedom ringing

bullets singing

When I was eight

Was I late

for the blood of the conquered?

But in occupied land

with silent citizens

Another I did stand, in truth

When I was sixteen

Did I dream

of servitude to a you?

The older I believes

the more I become

like some

But then it is

somewhat

of my own doing

and not the immoderate past

or the inherited destiny

of a grey man

of clay

Look away, look away

8/22/09

See “The Immoderate Past” by C. Hugh Holmann