Galicia Returns

Pale lines drag themselves
across burning visions,
Dystopia

painted by one,
Who, in himself,
Remembers

the hisses and snaps of northern
Italy,
Now recreated in a

basin, blood and fire
of Donetsk by
the hand of Bandera,

Galicia
tearing away the turf,
Opened graves

where daemons dare to
raise the dead
from the breadbasket,

Fertilising the dirt –
Poisoned wheat,
Stained

with the guilt of
years past,
years future,

Capital passed from regime
to junta,
With the cries of

Babi Yar ringing,
ringing in the ears of the
working dead.

babi yar

Advertisements

So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s