Sheachadadh Linn
Waves of green
waves of blue,
dance upon the shore;
each ripple carrying a tale
from across the sea.
One carries sand from
ancient lands of
gold and frankincense.
Banners of green, and
stains of red now blanket
this mystical arena
ripe with Revolution.
Upon the wave,
an echo of the people:
نجنا
The second carries
a doll from the East;
tossed upon the shore,
her ebony hair
depraved;
her porcelain skin
tarnished
by the sea’s violent current.
Her silken robes,
though tattered and decayed,
soft and bright colors sparkle
under the squalor.
She said it came
in one fell sweep;
deafened by the toppling
of empires and desperate cries
she watched iterase
all she had ever known.
In a soft, tearful whisper
she begged:
“Watashi-tachi o teikyō…”
Waves
now tainted
with blood and tears
cry out
for
deliverance.
