The Olives

“The olives, father! My olives!”
He yelled and cried and crashed to his knees
He couldn’t stop the man with the chain saw
He was a grown man, not a boy
But he couldn’t stop the monster with the chain saw
His face hit the ground and the earth stuck to his wet cheeks
“The olives, Mother! Oh mother!”
He cried and bled and choked
He couldn’t stop the iron fists on his head and back
Striking him to the ground
Arresting him
Proclaiming him criminal
A grown, virile, helpless man
Without a future, a present- and now- without a past


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