The Book of Buried Truths

I’ve seen the ledgers, line by line

the zeros bloom like winter wheat

while hands that plant and hands that build

are left to gnaw on empty sheets

They call it law, they call it right

this measured theft in broad daylight

But say it plain? Oh no, not I

some truths will paint a target white

The men who speak find doors shut tight

their names now ink in some black book

The wise stay mute, pretend they’re blind

and learn the art of how to look

I bite my tongue until it bleeds

let silence do the shouting for me

What good’s a voice if all it earns

is one more chain on liberty

Yet sometimes walking country roads

I whisper to the barren ground

the oaks still stand, the creeks still run

but no one hears the starving sound

So, take this verse for what it’s worth

a spark struck dark, a muted cry

The axe will fall where it always does

but not today. And not for why