Bury Seeds, Not People


I am afraid this will not be the last;
the show of love for hate before we lose,
chords so unmusical we cry to sing

For lust for impurities, we die fast,
dig to replace seeds with stones, that we choose
where the scorpion kisses with its sting

We make merry in pain, if i am asked.
A dialogue is a diseased excuse,
a harm, so good, it’s enough for nothing.

Then we sit and say history has passed.
We erase the footprints left by its shoes,
yet search for one befitting of a King?

To another, we must concede to cede.
This is a race not needing speed.


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  • sharonpaula

    June 25, 2018 at 5:44 pm

    I have been glued to your page for a week now. At first, it was the titles that got me. I now look forward to what you’ll come up with ‘today’ and it has helped me greatly, to write and be inspired. I’m grateful.


    • Leonell Echa

      June 26, 2018 at 8:05 pm

      Thank you, Sharon.


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