Pieter Bruegel the Elder

The Triumph of Life

Unflinching, in gloom, we stand and stare
And wonder from whence these changes came
Disarmed and powerless within their glare
They turned our children against us
With such foul and devious acts of love,
Weapons of empathy, compassion and care;
Like skeletons in the Triumph of Death,
They framed us to bide forever there
They whom whisper from infant to youth
They whom despise the wisdom of age
They whom condition with words of untruth
They whom would burn history's page
And what are we but yesterday's men,
Grown weary from repetition and grind,
Spectators in a landscape of winter's make,
Watching the blind leading the blind
In old times, before that wretched war,
A steady progress, a constant flame:
A future shaped from a rich before,
They turned the future against us
And when giants sleep, battered by storms,
They stand on their shoulders and boast:
They are a cancerous sore on this great land,
They are parasites killing the host
And, in hope, from a long and binding sleep,
The children will wake to the sound of strife
And free us from this landscape of winter's make,
To re-enter the triumph of life.

© Severn Dwyer. 2015

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