Forest of Rifles (Feedback appreciated)

I witnessed power grow

from the barrel of a gun,

a sprout of power soughed

where violence could be done.  

At first, it was a seedling,

pushed up through chambers.

Slender as wings of reedling;

angry as embers.  

Seedling grew to sapling

delicate in barrel –

blued steel with powder dappling –

end to endless quarrel.  

Sapling grew mature:

I heard it as report,

or snap of snare,

or crack of quirt.  

Smokey leaves and boughs

of a tree hale and ancient,

violent grove aroused,

yet, power is not agent.  

What propaganda by this deed?

What tyrant now accede?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9b0lxo/manic_depressive/e4zfygf

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9as9bc/autumn_leaves/e4zem5v

http://leftist.space/forest-of-rifles

formatting on mobile is a nightmare, holy hell