8.30.2014

Rotherham


it is addressed thusly:
A vision.
it reads:
Moloch sits alone on Ælfred's throne
Laughing, like a deathmask of a child
While clerks their full reports now filed
Thus he sits as one, he sits alone
Sardonic, of well tempered ironies
While not one of them willingly sees
The trail of slaughter, of sacrifice
As fire leaves no remain, no trace of blood
Bones then perhaps, were cast into mud
Sunk quietly while men avert their eyes
These small heroes of fair omission
And now they have made a fission
Where once the crown a center held
So these long knives once dulled by peace
Have now found their dark release --
No animals killed nor trees were felled
But still it was that Gehenna he brought
And made as nothing for which they fought
And slept, and while they slept so sound
Their countrymen against all odds
Let in strange men and their strange gods
An army that must have shook the ground
And yet blindfolded by their words
Long they slept, and little they stirred
Now wake to the odor of a sacrifice
But he requires the body and the soul
No mere abuse will make him whole
And a just revenge; as cold as ice
On those silent, on those who knew
Will please him more, when he is through
For old Kronus must have his due.

2 comments:

  1. I suppose it's your mention of Alfred, but I was immediately reminded of "The Ballad of the White Horse". It seems England has forgotten her Chesterton as well as her Alfred.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. When I realized there is likely going to be reprisals (eventually) for this, the whole poem came together.

      Delete

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