midnight driving through
Mennonite country I come across a
convoy - six silent black wagons
each with a single horse and
all on the verge of invisibility all
drawn home more by rectitude than horsepower
home at the Sabbath ending
six black unpremeditated rectangles
against an even blacker blend
of earth and sky
there is insurrection at work here:
this simplicity wears away slowly
at the feet of false gods
cries freedom from their rule of gold
and the quiet gentle destruction
of their temples
there is chaos here:
created when great revolving antithecal orders
grind against each other
there is no subterfuge no pretext
there are no banners proclaiming liberty
no martyrs to create no sacrifices on the ramparts
just the grating shudder
as Spirit and
Mammon collide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am totally captivated! By the images so powerful and defined. By the thoughts so provocative and sincere. I am totally impressed by this piece. I have never read you before and I see you have posted only three poems so I shall take my time, savoring this one and the others, getting an idea about what you are about. But I think I will soon be hollering for you to post more poems, please! ! ! 10+ and a place on my fav list
Thank you for your kind & gracious words, Susan. I do have these and other poems on itiswhathappenspoetry.com (Word Press) Hopefully, you will enjoy some of them, too. My goal is to post a poem every day but sometimes... y'know.