Perspective
In memory of James Foley
When barbarous
Children cruelly strike out
Against their household
Gods and declare
Mercy inoperable,
When cities burn
And veiled women
Are trucked away,
And fields are sown
With men and boys,
When metallic monsters
Prowl Eden’s plains
And, in the crush of treads,
Drive vineyards into sand,
There will appear a race
Of heroes, of singular
Truth tellers who will
Answer evil with gleams
Of leafy good
And sparks of fire,
Promethean wanderers
Here or there beyond
The rank trenches.
Without their reckless
Will, their stubborn
Belief in progressions
Of individual prophesy
And partisan
Points of starlit
rightness,
We vanish.
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