The grand vessel has tilted its lustrous bow
Into the heavy remnants of an arrogant sea
And is set to acquire more useless weight.
In this great ship now grounded we passengers must ask:
Where are the voices thundering with rescue?
Where are the weapons of mutiny buried?
Deep beneath the dismal granite of a callous sea?
Or here, in the thickset shell of humankind
Where heroes have beaten back upon greater odds?
Might they have died for nothing?
Might we squander their hope given us,
Their lives plunge `neath the icy waters?
The grand vessel has tilted its lustrous bow
Into the heavy remnants of an arrogant sea
And is set to acquire more useless weight.
Where? Where is the anger in our voices?
Where are the urgent pleas in our bearings?
Where are the new heroes most willing to march sternward
Lifting voices with the immense weight of atonement?
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
