Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Tuesday Poem: "Agog" by Andrew M. Bell


Mural in New Brighton: Artist Unknown

As I dreamt the voices sang
of war no longer waged.
The pitted scars had disappeared,
the global face had aged.
Poverty expired
in a ghetto in LA.
The morning found no corpses
on the footpaths of Bombay.
The wilderness revived
from the chimney’s stranglehold.
Harpoons sang no funeral songs
for those cetacean souls.
One’s sex no more a prison
and race a burden shed,
a man could not be tortured
for something he had said.
The nuclear threat was history,
our lungs were free of smog.
I woke in trembling disbelief,
speechless and agog.

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