POLITICAL Poem: A Vague Dialect of Monsters, by Nicholas McCarthy

The howls of wolves resound
where the recessed shadows lay,
a mass grave of darkness bound
between steeples and bomb bays.
Her world was old and silence
before the beasts descended
humming lies like violence
that she never comprehended.
Still, door to door she ran,
warning, yelling of the dangers
to every home the clergyman
had preached to love these strangers.
And ho–the monsters flocked,
each whistling in the sky,
while all the politicians talked
of peace raining from on high.
Everywhere the monsters spoke
made martyrs of the mute
while priests and politicians sold the smoke
that she led them down this route.

Author: poetryfest

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