Antique Image of Weaver Birds

 

 

The weaver bird mourns

In plumage of black

For stories unraveled

By murder en masse

 

The mechanized slaughter

Of innocent lives

Pierces and pockmarks

The fabric of lies 

 

That men tell each other 

About who they are

While clinging to guns

And filling graveyards

 

The weaver bird grieves

In her dusky mask

For twenty six souls

Who shall not be back

 

So gently she weeps

'Neath skies overcast

 Funereal, gray

As shrouded babes pass

 

 

Be Well and Good Luck in 2013,

Martha Maria

copyright Martha Maria, 2012