Saturday, March 23, 2024

Five Hundred Hours of Midnight

 

Five hundred hours of midnight 

Would not count my paces ere the dawn

Back and forth I walk and wonder

How God will tear the sky asunder

Rend the storm and come down. 


Stand, you weak-kneed children of commerce

Find your fire and stand! 

If not here, backs to the last patch of daylight, 

Facing the oncoming sheet of midnight

If not now, then where?


Your fathers were fat and lazy cowards

Who hesitantly raised a flag against the world

And stood, with scowls at their own achievement

Humbled emperors in their raiment

Laid low the mighty in their hour in heaps untold


But for all their failings; greed, avarice and shame, 

They clasped their swords with hands unyielding

Fought and lost and were sent reeling

And fought again and won, this little land


And we who eat from vineyards we did not tend to

And fields we did not sow

Now found again where they left it:

A rusty sword, a defunct musket

And the call to march, and stand!



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