From fields of far-off, wretched realms
He hears their doleful psalm.
It’s slow and sick and serves to dishelm
His soul with a vile and irritating calm.
Through the mist, clingingly rank
He eyes their huddled hulks.
Like ghosts from ships that long ago sank
Gasping from the dredges of their rusting and suffocating bulks.
He twists and turns and clinches his teeth with fits of zealous rage
By the sounds and sights that reverberate out from this dire and hideous stage.
This (Martin Luther) King of shining castles raises his terrible, swift sword
To trample out oppression from the slithering beast’s venomous disaccord.
He swings his mighty saber wielding the power of God from high above
And enlists His legions of Angels to inundate the guilty with a cleansing maelstrom of love.
Our Prince of Peace and decorum who died to make humanity holy
Prays we live and love together in harmony to make humanity wholly.
Lest not we disappoint
His truth marches on!
2020 ©Jeffrey J. Antonucci. All rights reserved.
