9

Nations and men, cities and stone,
Vanquished, lie ruined, then vanish.

Uprooted columns shrink to sand,
The names on the cornerstones effaced.

They all made skilful well-placed pits,
And "progress" spread their clever nets

So dense their groping feet were caught
Stumbling, blind with rage and hate.

Poor now, hoping, poorer still,
Wolfing their last meal, their bait.


© Dan Goorevitch, 1998