Septembers of our lives (For ML Kids)

He moves in & out of electric air
Is air itself that blows grief out of her heart
He has the handsome face of her lovers
She’s always fatally under his spell
Life, death, love & loss, he whispers,
are time & history’s eternal verities:
Don’t ever resist nor breach their limit.
What you have is what you need
She’s forever safe in his iron grief
Why should they say he’s a gruesome beast?

O If only things turn out
so biblical, so prophetically right
that good is rewarded, evil denied
It would be a world of angels
playing music of heavenly desire
But when animals perish & children die
There’s hell to pay for what’s not divine.


The beast is still out there
& people of God & despair
dig in for an infinite September


So it is those terrible years
of hiding in the attic of your heart
that make you dream of the miracle
that has always been chronicled
by angels who blow the trumpets:
All good men will overcome.
Patience, patience, patience.
Trees cannot be forced
to bear fruits out of season.
When the time comes – it always does –
the harvest will be good, plentiful


Leave your prisonhouse of fear
& welcome the blast of mountain air
that makes the blood rush to the head
like some secret magical sound
that hums in your ears,
shaking off the heavy roll of drums
of black days & black nights
that echo in your heart.
Don’t you hear the clash of cymbals & flutes
& the festive shouts of kids & underdogs?
The night will be done soon.
The beast will exfoliate
in the murderous light.


O the beast has spawned
legions of beasts…
Patience, patience, patience.
Hear ye the warriors’ creed.

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