Poem "Weed Killer"

This is a poem about how institutions interfere with natural healing.

There is a magic plant that will ease the suffering of the innocent.

A doctor can't prescribe it.

A farmer can't grow it.

Yet it is all over.

Against the toxic chemicals used to kill it.

Just like a fatal ash that is caused by the chemicals gloom that rises in the morning

and blows into your windows when the wind is right.

If one person suffers because it is forbidden

then it is the tyrants who wear the torturer's black hood

by leaving them in a bed of spikes

like some wounded civil war soldier crawling to the shade

where the skies are vast but the towns are miniscule

Where sirens ring from the town over

Where agonized victims remember the faces of those who abandoned them

They are the ghosts of the plains that haunt us!

Thank you.