in my dream
three women in white
sit by the water
weeping crying the worlds tears
wrapped in white cloth their tears
form the waterway
it flows as far as the eye can see
they cry silently
for the places the paint has
peeled back & we see what
lies behind the illusion
suffering want need
in the shadow of opulence
degrees of poverty beyond
comprehension give thanks
you are not an orphan eating from
a garbage dump if you are be grateful
for the waste of others you could
be drinking gray water if you
are strong enough to make it
to the polluted stream in my
dream the ladies in white keen
a low lonely sound full of misery
as bodies fall dust rising covering remains
bodies shrivel eating themselves in the absence of
nourishment or come into the
world mis-formed a result of war
on the body of the earth reflected
in the twisted bodies of children
destined to be beggars with empty cups
the ladies in white cry the tears
the poor do not have time to cry
they cry for Palestinian children
who only have rocks to fight off terrorist
they cry for the babies living off ramen and hot chips
in buildings filled with lead rats roaches & the smell
of dead dreams rotting all round
they cry for the babies too hungry to pay
attention waiting for prison cells no where
else to hold their broken aspirations they
weep for children without parents who
struggle though chaos storing up animosity
that will spill out in ideology sooner than later
they wail for refugees separated from the land
family hope eating resilience that has gone rancid
they sob for the earth itself someone must
they grieve the death of honey bees the
change of climate the pollution that circles
the globe mostly they weep for our blindness
our feigned innocence
or well developed ignorance
our comfortable complacence
our imminent demise at
the hands of wolves who
don’t care whether or not
you know you are sheep