------------
When the Russians shook hands with the Afghans,
And the Persians debouched on the plain,
The bloodsoaked topsoil shivered
And cried, “Not again.”
When the torturers snapped all the lights off
But the one that glared in his eyes,The bloodsoaked prisoner trembled
And stifled his cries.
When the Bacchae – those absolute tyrants –
Found Orpheus dead in his heart,Their bloodsoaked fingers tightened
And they tore him apart.
When the soldiers diced for the clothing,
Loud at the foot of the tree,The bloodsoaked sufferer muttered,
“Remember the Three.”
When the low-voiced callers fumbled
And pointed a righteous gun,The bloodsoaked victim staggered
Before he could run.
When Cronos gorged on his children
And crouched in his cave alone,His bloodsoaked tongue was puzzled –
But he swallowed the stone.
And I wish that all the killers
Could go home with an aching head,Their bloodsoaked dreams abandoned,
To find their loved ones dead.
O, the way of the world is brutal,
As fierce as a desert land;The bloodsoaked ogre comes and takes
The children by the hand.
====================
© July 1980