To What End?

An additional stanza was added to this poem after the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

How much land does one man need

to impose his will upon?

Then came all the Caesars calling

charging across the Rubicon.

He sailed beyond the enlightened shore

to make his presence known.

Columbus found “no monsters” crawling

just “Indians” he could own.

There beyond the dry summer plains

where destiny swallows life,

Lay the naked bones of Custer

scattered with the seeds of strife.

And living space for the Hitler folk

so pure the angels sing.

With no one spared the blood ran cold

and the angels took to wing.

From the east Putin’s red star rises,

the innocent are forced to run.

Smoke billows from shattered lives

into the burning setting sun.

To what end then, does a man seek land

once all the fighting is done?

When just six feet from head to toe

is all that he has won?