Poem: Allies

'Allies' by Emily Clare is the winner of the Winter 2021 poetry contest.
Photo: 
The taste of raspberries,
On their lips,
From the red hand painted over their mouths,
The same hue as the coats of the men who have taken the land,
Who have brought bombs to knife fights,
And for what?
 
The smell of gasoline,
But far from a petrol station,
The burning cars on the side of the road,
There is calculation in its placement,
A symbol of a society that has planned its own dysfunction,
And for what?
 
Mist on my face,
Not a raindrop in sight,
Could you please take a step back when you are preaching?
There is no faith within words of abhorrence,
All because you do not like her hands on my hips,
And for what?
 
Another day of black and white,
The streets are empty,
But the printed columns are full.
There is deafening silence within each letter,
That is corrupt with the omission of voices that do not draw blood,
And for what?
 
The blue pill or the red pill?
The blood diamond or the burning oils?
The cadences of mankind are unwavering,
History loves iteration,
But we do not.
And for what?
 
The procession of progression is as slow as a funeral.
Carrying the weight of the dead past,
Do not wait for any obituaries,
It will reincarnate again, and again, again.
We will speak the names of those outside of our doors,
And for what?
 
Well,
You should know that by now.

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