As the World Turns
What rises from this wheel
is at the mercy of the hands that shape it.
Will there be traces of the elements
that go into its making?
Or will the making remove the traces
of all that came before? Will it rise,
or will the hands that determine its future
crush all that lies within in it,
like tanks rolling across a border
that means nothing to those hands?
This poem is my response to The Sunday Muse #200, which offers ten of the top viewed prompt images of the last four years. When I used this image last year it was for a love poem. The current invasion of Ukraine by Russia sends my thoughts in a different direction.