Thirty pieces
By Grannyrosie
THIRTY PIECES With every day of conflict that passes, Yet another worried mother will cry. Somewhere, destruction will reign, Mother earth will sadly sigh. Red of blood will mingle bitterly, With the yellow brown of arid soil. Tears and wailing will reverberate, Munitions workers will toil. Cannon fire, from Thor’s distress, Hidden by the silent din, Skulking infiltrators terrorise, Without, and deep within. Hands reach out, transfer of thirty pieces, Who be betrayer, whom betrayed? T’would appear of war and misery, Mankind’s intent is made and laid. Who will suffer little children? Will, at last, earth claim her victory? Hold a mirror, see a true reflection, Satan can not rejoice eternally. Cut a window in the fabric, See the cloth that binds thee now. Do the rust stains look familiar? Will the marks remove somehow? Imprinted on the minds of man, This play, divided into acts. Thespians, take your places. Read your lines, without the facts Written December 20th, 2001 © on Dec 20 2001 12:22 AM PST, Patricia Rosenberg 0 • 9
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"THIRTY PIECES..."