Harvest Time Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Summer is an executioner
Moonlight curls its white fingers
Joy threatens the war of the heart

She brings symbols from Rachel
Sad idols of the valley of the Kings
Buried in divine revelry

Abject eyes of the sullen religion
The palace is bent to the rabid ground
Ambition is a maze that devours grace

You gather remorse like a paupers wage
Your fields are reflections of fauve hopes
When the harvest comes your rocks cry

The fishermen toiled all night
Lanterns and fires in the cold courtyard
Fallow ground cracked like drought

Awakened by the dying
Awakened by meaningless existence
All the dead burying the dead

Everything becomes civil gestures
On the edge of a hang noose
All this rotting harvest

Pray the Lord of harvest sends harvesters