Hands tight, legs bound,
Mouth gagged for submission,
Bondaged, by no self-request.
Nations tied to economy’s curse,
Answerable, to another’s behest.
One proud, one small,
One weak, one tall,
Taller, tallest, best.
As Nature’s kind bequest.
Looking down from tower height
At others far below;
Insect-like, they scurry hither,
As if they do not know.
But others do. They see the lies,
That power, too, is curse,
That attitude to weaker states,
Leaves others so much worse
In choices that they have for life;
Children, husband, family, wife,
Exempted from inclusive share
Of earth’s bountiful supply.
And some will question, why?
They have this right to gaze ahead
And see a world where land is bled,
Resources taken for others’ good,
As if in brotherhood.
The ties that bind do not oppress
The mind or spirit, in duress;
A glow of hope remains in breast
And some will strive to do what’s best,
To look behind the mirrored wall
And see the puppeteers that call
The tune, to such as we –
Eyes raised, to heaven, pleading for
All peoples’ liberty.