Monday, November 07, 2022

Two New Poem Drafts

Cathedral of Immerath

Sorrow, mortal children, cast the dust of time upon your head;
all your fairest works are crumbled; soon they will be dead;
this soldier-building, wounded once by guns of blood and death,
was left unheeded, unregarded, rasping in its breath;
unloved and lonely veteran, it kept the watch of years
where its ancestors broke the ground; it fought the things of fear.
But God and holy Lambert's way no longer find respect,
for Mammon is this age's god, and all things does direct.
So strip the village! Strip the church! And strip the very earth!
Those things a people will destroy will measure their unworth.


The future is out of reach; the present now
is running swiftly past; hope is now
as memory, however cut and shaped, is now,
and both are running swiftly past; so now
be patient with the day; for only now
are you and I here, and we know no fate but now,
when we are as we are before God's eternal now.