I cannot pay the bill
The bitter bill for all the children killed.
I will not cry
Nor shed my tears for those the horsemen
Gather to their sides.
I raise my fist,
My fist a hammer, mannered in the flames
To beat upon the flesh of tyrants,
Crushing, with the weight of graphite;
Striking out blank faces in the lists.
I will not yield
Yield to the woven lies the spider
Witch spins out, in tangled waves, betrayed
To burn out hope and life and love:
I would claim the olive and the dove.