This nation is a field of fire,
whose breadth, measured,

its mountains folding in
like wound around a sword;

a voice of thunder falls upon
this city, whose ears, deafened,

distracted by the crashing shores
becomes a woman in the desert

calmly praying for the dead.

Gather up the whitest wool,
prepare the clouds and earth,

for all that has been shattered,
broken- will witness birth.

No comments: