Heavy Hands

By Scott Bailey © 2014

The blood of a million children
Is heavy in my hands
Slipping through my fingers
Like eternal sands

Not the consequence of acting
But the consequence of not
A stain upon my conscience
And ever-growing blot

So I consume and I create
And so I spend and save
Consumer and producer
But I never gave

The hand that should have proffered
Is stained with guilty red
The reproaching cry from beyond
Of the wasted dead

So my heart is heavy
With echoes of that cry
If you believe of guilt you’re free
Look me in the eye

Image from Pixabay

Where the Red Fox Roams

Where the Red Fox Roams

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Image from Pixabay

The timid beasties scatter
With tiny racing hearts
The scent of blood approaches
The herd all ways it parts
For here
The red fox roams

The scent of fear it rises
And fans the fox’s fire
Into enslaving passion
To raise the killer higher
Thus
The red fox roams

Filled with hate and ire of
Where the white wolves dance
The dance the fox desires
Denied its golden chance
Everywhere
The red fox roams

The world has grown accustomed
To fear of tooth and claw
The world has grown so weary
Of lives lived short and raw
Still
The red fox roams

The timid beasties scatter
Will never make a stand
They’ll not accept the secret
To gain the upper hand
So proud
The red fox roams

No one knows the course
Where the fox’s road is heading
All they see is darkness
The cast of all the spreading
Death
Where the red fox roams

Where the Grey Wolves Grieve

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Image from Pixabay

On a barren plain
Where food and joy are sparse
The desolate packs wander
Watching slow time pass
Here
The grey wolves grieve

With rose stained eyes
Patrolling their border wide
Preserving what is left
Of what they hold inside
It’s why
The grey wolves grieve

They gaze across the delta
To far off distant times
Where game and ease were plenty
Than in these austere climes
And so
The grey wolves grieve

Disgusted by the carnage
Where the red fox roams
On guard for rebel spirits
Keeping safe their homes
Where
The grey wolves grieve

Yet what they seek in earnest
Deep within their hearts
They know is far beyond them
Beyond their stilted arts
Endless
The grey wolves grieve

The packs struggle onwards
Huddled in their gloom
Their hearts so full of anguish
For hope there is no room
In this land
Where the grey wolves grieve

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