How come that sins are single slips of skin
and not the iron fists of armored men?
How come that honor comes from swords
and not from words we carve with pens?
How come we call the cowards brave,
while heroes will be shot at dawn?
How come we let the pot call kettle black
and never question if we’re right?
Why do we always give the answer first
before a question has been asked?
Why do we let the music blare,
and stare at those who praise the silent nights?
When will we ever learn that praised are those
who cannot tell if it’s dark or light?
When will understand that future’s found
by following the narrow road?
December 22 2016
Björn Rudbergs writings 
These are questions for our times.
Very powerful poem. The first line’s alliteration really sets the tone. Excellent word choices and rhyming. Wow!
Thought provoking poem!
This reminded me of the “Blowing in the wind” song. Very important questions.
We too often interpret the world one way when reality is something else. Great questions here.
Great sound throughout. A number of profound thoughts expressed.
Did you mean to say “black” though”?
Love the opening line, and the one about killing heroes at dawn.
The part about those who can’t tell light from dark especially touched me. It makes me think of those who have lost their faculties, like the aged or mentally handicapped.
I did mean black… 🙂
Great write, Björn ( but I think you meant ‘black’
Indeed black it is
We do not ask enough questions. So true, Bjorn.