Monday, 25 October 2010

A nation swells

Some rising tide
Deep inside her darkness
Some receding storm
High above her hills

O covered face

I can little behold
Your blackness
Nor the mystery
Held within
Your poverty

All mine, all mine

In the stillness
In the silence
In the sorrow

Mystery will pierce
Like a spear
The just and the unjust
The living and the dead

O my heart

Turn towards the blackness
Walk into the centre of the stillness
Stand within the silence
Encircle the sorrow

She rises and billows

As I, as I

Upon the solemn winds of change

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