We destroy, we maim, we claim

and kill what we cannot hold on to.

We inter the bones, burn the bodies

of dissident thoughts, place

our fears in isolated camps

and call it freedom.

There is no comfort to be found

And hope is in retreat.

All that is, is politics and war,

it’s insidious teeth clutching

in it’s jaw the lives that we cling to,

in our little prison.

We destroy, we maim, we claim

thoughts with suppression,

the stillness of the dead, long withered

not learning, not listening

to the echoes of the beasts

that claimed it was freedom.

Forgetting that their lives too

began at the beginning

in innocence and gurgles

before they were raided,

traded, used as weapons

to arm the prison.

We still destroy and maim and claim

forget these camps still exist

a warning of the legacy of weakness,

the inhuman rubble of torture

that in turn gave anything

but freedom.

I stand in silence, all around me,

snow flutters to the ground, softly

gently, hesitantly, as if to say,

this is how it is, how it always is,

you visit and go away, but we dwell

in this silent prison.

So how long do we maim and claim

destroying lives, repeating refrains?

How far do we walk if not for peace?

How do we hegemony repeat?

In the name of freedom?

We have maimed, claimed and destroyed

the ashes, the debris and skeletons

but the children remain, carrying their past

in shelters that cannot shelter

the terror of yet another war, nothing lasts

in this man-made prison.