Shadows on the Hills


The dapples of sun through the trees
On the ground growing marvelled hues
Of the leaves and the grass weaving
Rest inside the eyes of a patriot.

The sounds that once whistled now dull
In the slowly drowning memory
Of what the flesh shielded until
It was blown apart.

I once believed in the justice mind
And battled the guards of tyranny.
By the will of my benefactors
The finger pulled the trigger.

But I lost the war.
My friends, they have perished
Never to sing again the anthems
Of the working man’s glory.

The lights move across the fields.
The grove with olive branches fills.
Certainly the world shall be oppressed
But never, those shadows on the hills.

Bevagna, 20 9 2012