by M.H. Spicknall
When all the dogs run into the wood
When all the forests stiffen to stone
When all the rocks dissolve into dust
When all the debris buries the thrones
When all good gods have fall’n to their knees
When all the faithful have done what they could
When all the deeds done do not hold the hounds
When all of us have forgotten the good
When all the pleas are lost silent screams
When all the quiet has set loose a fate
When all coming time reflects only us
When all our mirrors reflect only hate
When all our fears have walled off the world
When all of this land is for just us alone
When all of them crawl back to the wood
When all that’s left is to gnaw on their bones
Hundreds of migrants are being held under an El Paso, Texas bridge without clean water or proper shelter. —NowThis News, March 29, 2019
When all the dogs run into the wood
When all the forests stiffen to stone
When all the rocks dissolve into dust
When all the debris buries the thrones
When all good gods have fall’n to their knees
When all the faithful have done what they could
When all the deeds done do not hold the hounds
When all of us have forgotten the good
When all the pleas are lost silent screams
When all the quiet has set loose a fate
When all coming time reflects only us
When all our mirrors reflect only hate
When all our fears have walled off the world
When all of this land is for just us alone
When all of them crawl back to the wood
When all that’s left is to gnaw on their bones
Author’s Note: The poem can be sung to Dylan’s “Masters Of War,” and includes a sad nod to Woody Guthrie.
Mark Spicknall is a manufacturing and business consultant, who writes simply to help distill things to their essence for his own understanding.
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