Death cannot be seen, nor spoken.
Sacrifice is but a bloody deed and cruel.
Can one face such atrocity and live?
What gods are these that cause such terror?
Hide in innocence their actions and cowardice?
No wonder women of the world despise us:
Dare to fall below the saffron robes of light,
Yield the blood of maidenhood to strife;
Break the troth of life in muted silence.
One cannot escape such deeds as these,
The fated shades of sorrow end in blackness;
The hand that slayed her shall fall dishonored.
Justice is no more, the fragile earth is wounded.
The old mother will have her day in court,
The fatal moment of her balanced word shall rise
Upon us all and bring a king to his knees;
The troubled glances of the dark priests
Whose prophecies of doom started this,
Shall find their way in utter darkness;
And all those who in pledged might to victory
Will weave a destiny of cowardice and shame.
Even now she awaits one who will come:
A poet grounded in her green truth,
One who shall walk this earth awakened
By her deep songs of love and sorrow;
For in that moment all will change,
And she will resume her honored place:
Her reign in bliss and promise restored intact,
And a new earth shall arise from this bitterness;
And humankind shall weep in sorrow of her curse.
Yet, those who listen to her poet,
And in their hearts remain true,
Will walk through stones of fire: purified;
And once again the children of men
Shall inherit the earth in her paradise;
All memory of ancient strife lost in time’s mazes.
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.