Sometimes We Are Cassandra’s Children

Poets are Cassandra’s children
nevertheless and also because of this
we continue to mark our words
against the hope that we are heard
tell truths that prickle
but wear collars of inevitability
that make of us mute birds
when we speak out
against the war and wall
and our words get lost
in folly of bomb fall
we were right, we are right,
we caw, we caw
but the words can’t seem to rise
beyond our craw. — Annette Marie Smith