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

Till 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