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Come to me, Father Amun, protect me in this bitter year of confrontation.
God shines in the sun; yet he will not shine, winter crowds hard upon summer.
Months happen backwards; disheveled hours lurch drunken by.
Those cut down in high places cry out to you, Amun; the beaten in alleyways seek you;
And the new generation at the breasts of its nurses wails, "Give us our Lebensraum, Father!"
God find in his heart to return, bringing peace, bringing air, the clean breeze before him.
Or let him grow me the wings of protection to soar like his sky-ship high beyond earth.
-These words came on the poisoned air, Spoken by herdsmen in fields and marshes, by those who beat c!othes on the banks of the river,
By district police deserting their precincts, by horned beasts on our burning deserts.

Posts: 104 | From: santa barbara, california usa | Registered: Mar 2005  |  IP: Logged |