Assassin

assassins, assassin, assassination

The word assassination
draws the lips into an involuntary sneer
with its terrible sibilance,
its hiss of deflating hope.
Someone slips through the shadows,
a silent, sly sneaking to snuff
the bright flame of freedom.

Let that sharp pop
muffle the voice of the people
for only a moment of silence.

Then let millennia roar from the mouths of the mob.

Lay down your arms.
Cease attacking
our temples.

Gaze into each life you find along the way
for each flame bears a lesson that all may learn.

Stop killing our kind ones.

We need our elders,
we always have.
We know when we gaze into the faces
of people naturally wise and kind.
They inspire us to be better.
Let our natural elders
from all the world
convene and palaver
instead of the thin veneered facades
we now call leaders.