Brevity by Daniel Keightley

we plucked the life from
the earth and buried
our sons underneath,
we hung our sobbing
daughters from the
boughs of a sycamore
tree; we taught our
brothers to hold a gun
and our sisters to love

when our sands
turned red we could
still never understand
how our wrists were
restricted, how we
could speak several
languages but our
tongues were twisted

why for every inch
of freedom there was
another inch of war,

why our eyes and our
fists could not fathom
democracy, so tell me
what would happen if
they all got free?