The Tyrant and the Blade of Grass

Yesterday,
The Tyrant rumbled into the city
On tanks and soldiers and wanton laughter
Fire burned everywhere

Yesterday,
the grass that did not burn and burn, up and up
was trampled trampled down down
all pointing in the right direction

Yesterday,
The Tyrant stood at the microphone with his medals and his Proclamations
And murdered in the street
All those who did not scream with joy

Yesterday,
within the dull clamor
one blade of grass remained
in the brown gray wind

Today,
a children’s jingle giggles a tyrant’s name
the red-cheeked peasant woman carries apples
and the city is a pea on the vast green plain