Across the backs of the years
Kings break like reeds
Ascendant, vanquished,
In a chronicle of implacable feuding.
This war butchery never abates.
Lust for dominion is infinite.
Sanctified men have blood-drenched these parishes,
The centuries planted a raven battle flag
On these monster-haunted fens,
Till history tells of two rage-blind soldiers
Whacking each other with shovels.
Such times do not fade.
The sun still spills in the sky
With the gore of conquest
Until on every page of our annals
There is blood, ash.
Such brutal war music.
Grieving men lean like tumbled trees
Into each other's arms
Because the sun has been swallowed today
Because nothing is left.
All our homes are shattered.
The long fingers of our women
Stretch out of the rubble
Their stilled faces
Seeming to cherish
Great dreams
Even in death.
Is this a last dignity,
Or a final rite,
That grows like a delicate flower
From out of the carnage?