
You who have worshipped the cursing sun You who have cracked the earth's side Listen the negative joy of unreality Listen the hollow labour of love Listen Our cry: Day unbegotten, how was I born From a dying womb Cursed with a dead logic Spawned by the carnal pack In the long night Children with outstretched hands and open mouths Their bellies empty and raw, chewn and mauled Children of Lazarus begotten Twilight- And from the empty Graves Came fumes, Dead air rising To muffled drums Hollow beats, silencing The mute cries of unclean water, Where The lepers bones float In the shadows of light In places now forgotten Quenched of thirst By the jackals light The living dead Rejoicing in the hungry world Rejoicing to the songs of jackals Cracking bones In the dead land The parched land Empty bowels and The hollow wind A dry bone is a good feast A dry stone to crack our jowls A dead image to put our faith We have chosen and must abide Pray for the unsung dead So that they may rejoice And stir a dry bone A dead eye and laugh at The quickness of our laments Console yourselves with these words And believe in the wrath to come absolve our sins Be not unmindful who beg for redemption
Joseph A Farina is a retired lawyer in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. His poems have appeared in Philedelphia Poets,Tower Poetry, The Windsor Review, and Tamaracks: Canadian Poetry for the 21st Century. He has two books of poetry published ,The Cancer Chronicles and The Ghosts of Water Street
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I was hooked right from the start. A genuinely good dark poem.