Friday, April 16, 2010

Still Rising

If sights would help us live, we’d see worlds
We’d take those strange steps on salty lands
Conquering kings and living out lives
We would love the days far from our own
We’d warm together on nights so cold

But we are not people of travel
We won’t heal from ancient battlefields
Our wounds need more than ghosts of the Greeks
We burnt to ashes our withered world
And now we’ll die, the smoke still rising

1 comment:

Casey said...

I don't think it is, but I felt the poem stands as a great metaphor for the American people.
"Our wounds need more than ghosts of the Greeks" was my favorite line.
Great job with this one, Sam.