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Punchline - Wither On The Vine

Something to survive
Decades of murder and maize remind
My every night,
I wrestle with the thought of their return.
To what will we owe our next relocation?
Tenants to their reevaluation
Of the ever-emerging “threat,”
We wither on the vine.
I rise; it does not shine.
In darkness, we're disappeared.
Still evening falls.
I hope my boy, he never understands
How the fields were fertile where the planes now land.
The road kids walked to school,
Now runways carrying the tools
They'll use to keep them down
As they wither on the vine.
How we wither on the vine.
I rise, but it don't shine.
No, it don't shine.
I remember the path that linked each home;
Though the road was narrow, it was ours to walk.
You had no right,
And you still don't.