“Renew” by Sam Yu
The blade performs its quickest work
Cutting them down like weeds
Without complaint or silver irk.
They will not know what came before,
For that has been silenced.
Nothing is left no bones or gore,
So they will grow on barren land,
The land that boils and bleeds
By the invisible, grey hand.
Soon, they will grow as tall as trees,
And in the clear wind,
bend And twirl their thin frames in the breeze.
The blade will come then, to cut them,
Leaving behind the seeds
That will grow again all the same.