The Clearing

Braining their enemies
On the trunks of fallen trees
In a clearing freshly felled
The pitch will sweetly smell

The vulgar men will yell
All within earshot
Of the last tenable plot
For which our fathers fought

And I will beg of you
To heed this awful crew
In silence out of view

For if they take you in
They'll fall upon your skin
For what you hold within
And cast your frame aside

They've taken fat brides
And carved their soft sides
And left them out of doors
Where lesser beasts roar
And eager vultures soar

But tie not your summer dress
Let free your lily breast
And take the wind's caress

Beyond the hands of men
Who tear what cannot mend
Who break what cannot bend
Who build a fearful court
To house their wicked sport

What silver heads exhort
That guilty they are not
Of blood forever wrought
The sun will never clot

So clip the angel's wings
And let the axes swing
'Til arms are aching
And blades have fallen deep

For even they must sleep
And shelter they must seek
Amidst their own debris

But over there stands a tree
And in its shadow we
May take a deeper kiss
Undress the broken fist
To love is to resist

The old embittered flow
And the wind again will blow
The forest again will grow
And your eyes again will shine
Like the pitch of the ancient pine