We are the Dead

Inspired by reclusion, a year’s headlines, and the song by David Bowie.

We are the Sad Ones, silent we hold

to stones of privilege in each hand by

the cold of unreclaimable duties, we stand

human, our heroes all dead, arms too full

guts too frail to man controls.

–

The sad ones see unfolding power

ripe everywhere in everyone but not

in us, in us just articles of anger

lodge in throats, tired voices wait

for only Hope is worth negotiation.

–

We the seeing unseen, by sun unkissed

when we go to them our heroes will all

look back at us cool from the coal abyss

say inequities lisp our hubris, us Sated

Ones spill godless prayers as we fall,

–

our respects unsaid, We are the Dead.

*

Original poem by Lee Jane Taylor

Photo credit; Reign-Abarintos for Unsplash