Marc Grimson

Death Of A Nation

He saw her die.
It was no natural death, she was tormented, twisted,
abused into a lifeless meaningless form.
Not but a whisper of a myth.
She was nothing in her waning years,
but a speck of dust to be wiped away forever.
He saw it coming, through the countless bureaucratic prophecies
and rumors of war.
There was none with the will to stop the onslaught,
none who had the strength.

He and the others all saw her die.
Thrown upon the ground and trampled in the dirt.
They watched in horror as they, too,
knew death could come to them if they spoke out.

They all saw her die, the end of a long life.
She was murdered by power hungry criminals.
She was abused for power,
used again and again for the tyrant's purposes.
The people followed blindly to their doom,
the day she died, their fates were sealed.

Mortuus democratiae, the death of democracy.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.