weary world, weeping
from O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
1.
a broken world collapses
clinging to what semblance
of normalcy there is left
crowds of angry men shouting,
torches in their hands and hatred
in their hearts, so deeply afraid
of the shuddering quakes beneath
their feet, foundations
sliding slowly back towards
the foaming, fearsome sea
2.
the never-ceasing waves
in the midst of the storm beat
me down, and I, sopping wet,
cling to the slippery stone,
cold and dark under my
cheekbone
3.
You have said that you can make pools
of water from a simple rock,
springs of water from a box
of matches
so then why don’t you turn
our ashes into rivers, and our battle
cries into bridges
can you do that, O Desire?
4.
the people shout, the nations rage,
the mountains shudder, the ocean
weeps and the sun
rises, again. the sparrows
in the trees jump from branch
to branch, as they always have
and we press on, through the wreckage
of our weary world, weeping with
the sea, our tears
forming streams in this desert
where we wait
5.
my arms ache from the desperate
clutch, my eyes weary from the waves
and the wailing
all I can do is hold on
with my freezing fingers and
lay my head down
upon the rock
