Coming into Easter
It is coming into Easter,
When death reviews the dream;
Palm branches on the cobbled stones,
Are nowhere to be seen.
Toppled statues of dictators,
They were sent to eradicate,
No mass weapons of destruction;
Streets lined with people, filled with hate.
He had no known religion,
No agenda from some god,
Condemned by some IED–
Was it for us he shed his blood?
He never searched to be a ‘hero’
To be tied upon this cross,
Last week someone remembered,
Saying, ‘They were sorry for his loss.’
© Fingleton (Juillet 2016) (Löst Viking)