Hear the banging of the wood on wood deciding a life,
a living,
or is it just voicing the path of righteousness or re-offending to be
undertaken in a month, a year, a millennium?
chosen by the twelve nobodies or are they
somebodies
high up on twelve pedestals,
THE WORLD
they've seen it all yet don't know how to look,
a future rests in
cupped grimy hands.
Effie Yalena Steyn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/judging-judges/
