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THE TURNING
THE TURNING
A sun and a starry heaven turned around this lamenting world;
Bygone mothers and their sons in an early grave. And from that
Lament everything raised again, woods, fields and animals
Battle cries continue to sunder new life on ancient terrains where
Abraham was first asked to slay his son. New life kept coming and
They walked so terribly quietly. If only they could turn this around.
Around this sorrowful world lamenting heaven still turned as if
It was a turnstile to crush the grain of life into silos without mercy,
Giving no thought to the Son of God leading up to the path of life.
Every darkness has a bright exit as if leaving a broken peace where
The god of good tidings left. With mournful look the god of tidings
Says, “My peace I give unto you and will not leave you inconsolable.”
But now you know how easily things are forgotten and breast bones
Are pierced by projectiles aiming at the Christ child within the heart.
And this: a feeling arises from the gods and lament rains from heaven.
Such is our errancy that its vague influence reaches the distant
Heavens. Dusty manuscripts from our oracular prophets seem to
Avail us nothing; the heavens wait for us to turn around our own light.
