A poem for Coppenhagen

Staring Down the Barrel
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When you're staring down the barrel of a semi-automatic,
Do you often think of outcomes which may be less than tragic?

Do you wonder if there is one, already in the chamber?
Do we have the time to think, that we're not in mortal danger?

While it might be nice to think that it really isn't loaded
We must admit, that chances are, our futures have eroded

A day may come when we will get to look upon the past
And hope the page we're reading now isn't next to last

But argue on, it seems, is what we're bound to do
The left, the right, are marching on and forgetting me and you

One side decries, there is no proof that it is our fault
It makes me wonder if they hide their eyes inside a vault

The other warns the impending loss of our Mother Earth
But have they missed the point of previous rebirth?

So on they march in different ways and on different paths
Each blaze away and forge ahead and neither go by halves

Yet there is a middle and there are many of us here
Who refuse to bow to pressure or be lead around by fear

Perhaps the real solution is still beyond our scope
But try we must to retain some modicum of hope