Gaia and the warlord

This is a poem that began life as a song a few years ago. The only four chords that I could play on guitar, didn’t sound so good, so I sing it acapella! It also works as a poem. The anniversary of 9/11 is a good time to share this again. Peace.


Only she and the moon could know the graveyard of his mind

fraught with nameless terrors and thoughts of the killing kind

a tyranny of errors and insects fighting among themselves

in a power-hungry famine, frightfully unwell.

She saw his false smileashen-grey face

talked in defiance of his fascist ways

and she refused to eat at his cold banquet

of sold-out theories and old salad.

(When she took off her gloves, from under her finger nails stardust of love fell through the haze.)

She’d completely lost all of her appetite but wanted to believe, so she thought “he’s a good heart inside

his filthy hands smeared brown bread with screaming children’s cries

still she sat down at his table, though the dream of peace was denied.

(When she took off her gloves, from under her fingernails stardust of love fell and caused him to faint!)

He shook and she thought that his heart of blame could be made from steel or rock still learn to beat again

so she cocooned him in the raw silk of her soul

until the moon faded into dawn light gold.

But in the new day, oh he was still dark as night

so she left him in a graveyard, went home to her starlight tribe

and they all restored a garden to bountiful delight

the warlord kept rambling and doubting his own mind.

Fire and water

Air and earth

No more war

Let Gaia rebirth.

Kathryn Crowley is based in Limerick, Ireland. Click here for creative writing workshops (online and in person).

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