Tank tracks are grinding up our city, our streets
weren't built to withstand this abuse
crushing our sidewalks' gently bricked slopes
casually destroying the traffic controls
we built

Rockets tear through the cool morning air
leaving our windows no more
Eventually the wind will blow away all
the ashes only ashes, once we had doors
and walls

Enough!
Stories of stone and stories of steel
talk of the lives they've come to unheel -
to govern, to tax, to teach them to pray
down on their knees - enforced or enslaved
"liberated"

From dust we're rebuilding, many long years
waiting for the world's healing eyes
The psychopath's words that launched this
are still poisoning dreams with their lies
high fives -
fat bribes -
and crimes
of war

A mother with tears in her eyes
surveys the wreckage of her flat
What's left of her life in the city -
empty cardboard box, clothing on her back
Where are the children?

An old man with a gramophone stares
out across the sunset square
What's left of his fourth-floor apartment -
tobacco broken pipe, Mozart in the air
Roll over Beethoven

Tank treads are grinding up our city
Again

11/1/21