Poetry: Scars

Concrete scars twist
Violently out of sight.
Our highways tremble
And recoil with urgent footsteps.

Distant hands wound our land
As gunshots tear the air.
Close by, a clenched fist
Questions nothing.

Ivory caskets endure
Like bleached shells. Abandoned
On this unwilling beach.
Now life stands still,

Our time confined
To this last eternity.

Words: David Smith