HERE IT BEGAN
Child of yesterday, all innocent in time
take up the spoon to fill with food
the pillow to recline. The days are meshed together
by other hands than mine.
Tomorrow is the child of yesterday,
but not so innocent
the sun illumines
the wastes and caves of the new dark age,
the wind a broom to sweep the room
and turn the leaves of trees that grieve
whose song is lost in historical dust
but listen my friend to what will begin.
The wind sang as it brushed the waves
and combed their lathered backs
the sky was a blue never seen before
of the light there was no lack.
Sailor come home, and on this shore
watch the deep raise up its hand
what's done is done, and now the storm
will the blood wash from the sand.
Here it began:
one step taken, one hand reaching,
one branch shaken, two eyes weeping,
ten regrets and fifteen reasons.
An act so small and so banal
so mundane at the end
so thoughtless and so spiritless,
impossible to mend.
Bitterly they walked the plain
the neck for the yoke, the hand, the chain
the song that rose was like a moan
from the earth to the sky, from blood and bone.
Cry, blood, cry, perhaps that cry
might reach the heavens or pierce the sky.
Sometimes common people do uncommon things
the servant saves the hand that wears the rings
but God forbid that when the story's told
the page be blotted by a liar bold.
A gentle rain began to fall
and washed the dusty wheat
the golden wheat, so sweet, so sweet
better than gold to the hungry man
the sun comes out o'er the rich farmland
the reapers bend to their given tasks
and the day begins to end.