Today this fool speaks.
However quiet the morning there is no doubt
That it is the beginning of a new day.
I walk, bare-headed, in this awakening land
And hear the call of the birds and see
The dew-dropped grass bend under the weight
Of the world's tears.
Oh why is this world so damaged?
Why do I hear pain in every softly
Uttered cry, and in the very breeze that
Sifts and sorts the emerging leaves?
The ship that I should have been on
Sailed so long ago, in June, and heads
Now, rudderless and adrift, roughly
In the direction of the so-called
New World.
It carries the rampaging triumphalism
Of a long dead Empire, and cannot
See that it is the folly of those like me
That rips the tattered sails and tears
The screaming shrouds in the
Cold and heartless winds that drive
The raging seas.
It is too late for me, I cannot sail on that
Ship, and would not want to if I could.
But even now, I wish that we could return
The ship to harbour and rebuild the land
It has left behind.
(c) 2ndwitch, 15/04/19
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