"Cold Morning" A Poem by Gabrielle Faust

"Cold Morning"

By Gabrielle Faust

There's blood in the snow,

A young mother's not coming home,

She said, "I'm not mad at you dude."

He chose to shoot,

Point blank. Inhumane. Brutal.

His poisoned words piercing,

The shattered glass slick with crimnson

In the morning sun.

Traitorous orcs in cheap military fatigues,

Boots crushing what's left of the American dream,

The one you have to be asleep to believe.

And what will be left if we cannot dream

Of a world in which we thrive

Rather than die fighting for our right

Simply to be free...

I used to fear the usual things,

Needles and heartbreak and drowining,

But now a mere errand fills me

With a bitter trepidation

To pull up on a random filling station

And be yanked from my car

As if I am not a citizen of this nation,

Because they do not like my sex or sexuality...

Given the power by idols of Nazis,

Drug into the streets

And beaten beyond comprehension

Because of some incomprehensible mission

That we were bound for long before

This nation was even considered

An experiment in human reason

And the limits of brutality and treason...

This nation was perhaps never meant

To succeed, too young to take heed of

History's warnings and too bitter

To believe that we could possibly be

Something unprecedented in

A world of nation kings,

Stationed on the precipice of losing everything,

Soon to be trapped

In amber and glass,

Another history book of lessons

That future generations will let lapse,

Failed and flawed since the beginning...

And the crow we eat will be bitter and tough,

Because we finally felt the bullets of

When a white mother was took.