Celebratory Bells Sing No More

ash palm hands
mounding a former contentment
that should have never had access
to distinguished sirens

a constant for Her grasping hold
is a resolution that we will stand
on the backs of support systems
that dwell in the upper kingdom

but the only song it sings
is one of misery
having just visited our planet
and not found retributive justice

plucking tottering harps
She spoke softly
like a whisper in my ear
that tone of whispers is fire
and conciliatory wastelands
meant for our arrival