Does It Matter (for a corps member killed in Rivers)

And does it matter
if our death headlines
the page of newspapers
covers the screen of TV sets
and waves of radio at night
in a land where skulls of dead men
are the broken staircase
that lead to the throne of thorns

Does it matter
if we all die one day
like dogs hit by vehicles at dusk
for the glory of callous gun men
and the victory of their gods

Does it matter. . .




Yesterday in Rivers
they plucked a star unripe
from the eye of sullen sky
killed its radiance and away
into the womb of grave

They dented the hope
of being and growing
they killed an orphan,
a patriot serving the fatherland
and sent a fatigued nation
into the season of mourning

In Rivers
where the blood of innocent
is a paint on the sour-face of the streets
they unrooted the radiant ray of sun
with poisonous sickle of selfishness
no sense of remorse nor guilt
just a little moment of tears
to see the victim of violence
off the street to graveyard

Who knows, tell me
who knows the next prey
of lurking gunmen with names
on the brochures of murder
who knows the next meal of their guns
that lead to the podium of power?