Your blind-eye blessings were enough
We’re undone
You won, old back-turn
Old apathy
Old not-this-time-friend
We withered under that blessing
We’re lessened
You flattened us,
Young ham-fist,
Young market-first,
Young what-the-people-want
But my spirit spits on your black-tongue,
Your silver-tone
Your where-the-chips-fall
And summons a fierce and ancient beast
Withstand, they call it.
Persist, they call it.
Shoulder-to-shoulder, it’s named
And you cannot stand under the weight of its shadow.
Copyright Michael Murphy-Burton 2020
“Apathy” by Szilard 365 is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0
