Revolution Cannon Shot Saint

3 Aug

A young saint could hear
the winds bursting loose they
carried to his ears the shriek
of strangled nations. Killers in each
hand a pistol. He knows the king is
soon to be conquered.

Shining through such confusions
he walks the streets with a vision
of far gleaming brass plates in
palaces that have yet to be built.

He knows there is a kind of miracle
taking station in the open meadows
while soldiers asleep under timberworks
with all manners of fire still burning.

He sees the hero of worlds on his charger
on the spur in an instant with the
bridles in his hands takes flight
against the darkness with
regiments marching, banners
spread, clasping their bayonets
to their chests they know well the
simple science of death.

Under the cloud of night he knows
the hero has already cut her loose and
like soft music, she is running towards
him and a carriage deserted
in the street.

She stumbles upon the young
saint there clutching his book
with trembling fingers. He wishes
to reach out and caress her, a
longing he had long ago abandoned.
He drops the book in the strett and
covers his eyes wishing to be
as blind as the wind. The book on
the street now has the cold deposition
of a witness. She picks up the book
and holds it out to him offering help
and comfort.

The young saint weeping knows
that there is no retreat, and with a sigh
he turns to face the cannon shot.
She stands there pale face looking on a
frozen mute, in her eyes he sees a
thousand fireworks blazing, he reaches
out to her and takes the book caressing
her fingers, his hands the communion cup
and she the sacred wafer. He knows
then that the mountain is always victorious,
and he will be found dead in the morning
looking as if in prayer.


2 Responses to “Revolution Cannon Shot Saint”

  1. Sensoria August 7, 2010 at 11:08 pm #

    My G-d, this is beautiful. Love and hate; life and death. Thanks for sharing this!

    • mattspotentialpoetry August 8, 2010 at 12:35 am #

      Thanks for stopping by, always love to hear feedback. This poem came to me late the other night, and I put it up on here post haste. Certainly glad you enjoyed it so much. Namaste.

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