Sleeping Face Upwards In The Fields All Night
Boston Graveyard 1994
Sleeping face upwards in the fields all night,
You will hear the din of a thousand baleful cries
Among the dusky sea of identical monuments
That like a poor idle regiment are the
Forlorn divisions of stone.
O Lord, do you see these wounds we carry
How we wander up and down lamenting
Like gypsies nicknaming the stars
And even as the unemployed soldier walks his melancholy path
And bleeds tears for conflict – we pray for the past to return.
But persist through pedantic expressions
From the palpable flatterer in white,
Living the tale of the pale physicians;
Who got their meals by selling miracles.
You feel the silence and sorrow to never entertain the glory of hope
You will do penance to angry Gods and
Wear your scars like the old lion
Cleave your heart, mar the flesh
To bask and howl in moonlight awhile
Then
Could I heal to hear
The voice of God
Vox Dei
Whispered blessings
Now only in my dreams
Clean and clear
Mending souls
Pure and perfect
O, the government of heaven has heard
And I know now
In this light natural now supernatural
That we will do nothing but melt our spirits together,
To solder up the holes in our souls
And ponder on
Goodbyes to Rose
Who goes sleeping face upward in the fields all night.
She will hear the din of a thousand baleful cries
Turn and turn to laughter and praises
And glide along the silver sea of identical monuments
This happy regiment,
These sweet soldiers of stone
O Lord do you see this meat of mortality
That has transformed and passed on
These human hands that will go to the madmen there
To those sunbathing beggars and lazy hedge-keepers
Sleeping face upwards in the fields all night