Being Murdered Most Were Brave Poem by James McLain

Rule over the earth.
Over there unmoved my surprise.
Rule of courage and she awakes.
Wearing no disguise at paradise with both sides.

And all of them without the long sword.
In pursuet of that one place.
Wider still fields of daisies.

Youth is all that is left unpicked.
Brown eyes are the clouds.
Striking the bell wind gone astray.

You I have raised up in this narrow warm place.
To you I vow understand.
Or should a person of love wet like the leaves
folded in front float away.

Most cry out at being pierced such is love.
Which is done boldly still worrying, it is.
Being quietly murdered,
are those whom come most were brave.