Saturday Poetry

The plow of hate 

The plow of hate

digs

the Earth. 

The shining blade 

engraves furrows soaked with tears, 

and tills clots of grudge,

and digs atrocious slashes of mourning, 

and ferrets out the roots of remote revenges, 

and rolls buried tragedies, 

and rediscovers ancient pits of death. 

   

With fanatical anger  

the plow of hate 

slashes

the ground of distant countries,  

and smashes remote regions, 

then it starts scratching 

the calm familiar valleys. 

   

Engraved, stunned,  

plowed,   

the wounded Earth

is waiting for a seed 

to make Peace, 

again, 

blossom.

M. Ivana T. Bach