01 May O God, How Long?
Posted at 14:06h
in Poems
Siege of white impure sea-foam,
Wharf’s lax position huddles strong
But holds to storm fingers how long?
This the unspeakable corner-stone
Which builds history’s tyrannies:
One thousand godless trivialities,
Unimpeachable hill of bone;
No single strike of worldly sore
Warrants casus belli — cause of war —
Not one day did build Rome,
But stacking small makes the tower
For not intensity holds the power,
The prolonged stay we call home;
A single blow sunders men whole
But cannot rend his immortal soul,
Yet repetition makes things its own
By many cuts and and scathing tong,
Resist I may yet o God — how long?
Come to me Spirit: bereaved, alone.