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LOVE WITHOUT REPUBLIC





Love stretched from seed to seed, from tribe

To republic, the war clouds carrying the darkening

Rain to the earth to mix with the mud and bloody shoes,

All through the day and night of thorns.



Wherever we went the truculence continued to follow

Bullet lacing our happiness as a staccato stringed violin,

At the rim of the wine glass, pain detained us as if to

Teach us the lesson that only copious tears can teach.



And from tribe to republic the winds of strife whipped-

Its baneful breath, its arrogant pugilism; later it would

Return the beauty of the Empress to do her work.



However, no incisive wind cut our love, in our rootedness

Love withstood the howling pavilions of artic coldness;

We were ever protected by love without tribe or republic