12 of 30, Poem-A-Day, "Say Amen"
Say Amen
Hear us, quintessential spirits of the worlds
that spin wild beyond our mortal senses,
emeralds of the land of dreams,
you golden-robed, holy fates
who preside over the dancing of the planets;
as the Sun sets behind us where we stand here,
upon our humble, tropical little island
we watch the ocean's waves darken
as the night sky fades into eternal shadow;
we make a vow of adoration and fealty
to the hand you have extended down through the clouds
into the chaos and sin of the world we know
and we are not ashamed of the tears we shed now,
as we bid farewell to the one
who has come from paradise itself
to free us from the bonds of slavery.
We are not ashamed to weep with gratitude
as the great leviathan wades slowly
into the roaring sea again;
this brutal, scaled monster, this guardian beast
whose furious brow surely must touch the tops of the clouds
and who came in our most needy hour;
who showed our enemies that
heaven will not ignore the cries of the oppressed;
this demon of obsidian, savage mercy
who proved to the cruel masters of our earthly existence
that the stars do indeed hear our prayers.
We are grateful that this towering, shining monster
has squished to death
those who once shackled our young, able-bodied men
to the machines of enslavement labor,
we cry tears of poignant and noble piety
to know that the heads of those who have subjugated our women
have been ripped off by the colossal, razor-edged fingers of this sainted brute,
we are humbled by the grace and swift justice,
the true peace that the monster has granted us
when he yanked the eyes out of the skulls
of the wicked, evil men who once rounded up our precious elders
and marched them to their gallows.
We are thankful that our enemies have been trampled
under the giant, mighty, cloven feet of our savior,
and we will always remember,
with both reverence and gratitude
that the blood of those who kept us as slaves
now stains the pale, twinkling sands of our shores,
and we pray that any who may be plotting even now
to attempt to enslave us
are watching and learning the terrifying lesson
our tormentors have just now learned.
We pray that those who may wish to bring us
some future horror, some harm in the days to come
might see the busted, torn-off legs and bloody guts
of those who once crushed us under heel
scattered like so many children's toys across this beach.
We wonder when he will return again
to bless our lands with his gaze, this reaping angel
come to us in the guise of catastrophe and doom
to bathe in our enemies' screams;
this terror that looms above our huts in the afternoon,
this ghastly, dreadful answer to our prayers.
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April 15, 2009 by Rich Boucher.