TRUMPETER’S LAMENT
by James C. Stephens
Friday, June 30, 2011 2:30 AM
…
Is this still my country tis of Thee
Sweet land of liberty?
I’ve forgotten her face.
Was she but an illusion? An attempt?
She hangs in the balance.
A nation turns a deaf ear
to the Trumpeter’s cry and Herald’s plea
They hear, but do not act.
Thy blood is not on my hands, he weeps.
Knowing soon, shackles will be on theirs.
O Master, can we be?
Truth, the nation falls in shame
wallowing in the filth of unknown dogma
Eyes filled yet with prideful glance
‘We never were with Thee.’
The cock crows.
The Master beckons me follow.
Continue thy pilgrimage.
Am I mad?
Trumpeter. Look away.
See My Face
And do not look back.
…