POETRY: 'Our Last Hope' by Robert Drake

There were 4,400
Funerals last year.
4,400 graves holding
Tightly to young bodies.
4,400 of my peers...
The poison known as
Bullycide has been spreading
Its venom ever so diligently,
Constantly, perpetually
Like contagion.
You,
Are supposed to be our
Security blanket, protecting us
From falling into the jaws
Of untimely demise.
And We,
Are the fools, who
Cry out even though
We know that our
Words will fall upon deaf ears.
314 soldiers died in Iraq
4,636 of our Youth died
In America.
I can hear the pleading
Cries of our ancestors,
Who once knew what?
It was like to
Live in
Constant fear.
I can feel the hopes
Of the soon-to-be,
Who pray,
For the chance to grow,
For the chance to
Make a difference,
To aspire to be that
Hero, that will be all the
Difference in the lives
Of 4,636
YOUTH.
And be that person,
By which their cries
Will reach a place
Where they will know,
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
That they are not
Alone.

CopyRight 2012| Robert Drake