4.18.2013

Aftermath

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
In the aftermath we see, what do we see?
A cloud has grown about our sight
A loud silence, where none agree
But nothing is actually said aright;
This city, made by hands of men
By the might of arm and wheel
Is set to night, is lost within
To begin again the senses reel;
While strength has saved the many maimed
A moral strength that still persists
The head at length, sickness has claimed
It forgets at all its body exists;
While those of us who yet read the book
Recall a loss of limb as well
Than to with wholeness to have to look
And breathe the everlasting smell;
The smell of death! But beyond the bay
We who watch from other lands
Remember anew, and recall the Day
And the City Not Made By Hands.

2 comments:

  1. Somehow these things always come out apocalyptic. It's like my vision - or the song itself - always reaches out to the end: death, eschaton, resurrection - these always feel like the ideas events, people and places suggest.

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