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The Spoils of Peace

As echoes of past conflicts start to fade,
The dissipating fog lays bare what’s planned;
Whilst treaties dance upon a blunted blade,
With bloodied fist replaced by sleight of hand.
The broken boughs pollute this new wasteland,
As mended limbs now exhume every crease
And bow and scrape to each perverse demand.
The gongs of war may well begin to cease,
But can the sounds of profit truly broker peace.
‘The dissipating fog lays bare what’s planned’ (Photo Credit: Katie Fallon/Virginia Tech University).
This is a Spenserian stanza, inspired by recent research, which investigates the potential threats to the natural environment in Colombia that might be brought about by the

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