POETRY

I have a simple question
addressed to the rulers
I only vaguely know.

I'm asking on behalf
of those whose wealth
is stolen continuously,

those who have nothing,
that instead of jobs or home
are given words of poetry,

of warning, of hatred,
of fear of an afterlife
that may or may not be,

those who line in queues
by imposing walls
of this or that embassy,

by palaces that span
entire city blocks
guarded by your tyranny,

that wait for a stab
at a quiet life instead of
tumultuous misery,

in other words, on behalf
of all Middle-Easterns
in your every country.

When is the end of
these dark ages? Where
is your age of Reason?

Instead of a pride
in the glorious past, where
is the love of your minion?

jam11