PROTEST OF THE DRIVEN

Yesterday will not suffice

To justify the new day’s life.

Laurels can’t be rested on,

But prickle to be bested on.

Attaining is a poor excuse

To slacken effort, to reduce

What must be done this day, this hour

To satisfy the gruesome power

That insists that all repose

Is tantamount to thumbing nose

At what mere being’s meant to be.

But we insist on equity--

The challenge and the curse we take,

But you, great power, must forsake

Your penchant for the bland infliction

Of sense we suffer of perdition

Every time we try but fail.

Recognize your own betrayal.

We accept your cruel game,

But you—give up your love of shame.

Written January 31, 2023;
©2023 Lawrence Helms