THE TRAIL OF A LIBERAL DEMOCRACY
Passing through postmodern
nationalistic states of maddened fervor,
we left tracks in grave-yards
while strutting and ranting diatribes
from less than disciplined cultures.
Offering platitudes to pained and seeking souls,
great pictures did we paint
with hubrised flourished strokes
of democratic shadows.
So convinced we were of self
and visions of eternal truths
released to us in sunsets
filled with glory,
we mounted hill-tops.
And finally there,
we are found in muslined fashion,
dropping to our knees,
surrendering in a piteous bowing
to Mother Earth,
and kissing dust
“We are sorry.”
It was done.
From The Twelfth Hour: A Collection, Don Davison
Contact Information: DrDavison@p;athtotheself.com
Copyright 2010 PathToTheSelf.com: Political Poems. All Rights Reserved.