EASTBEAT - for peace and non-violence

from "Yesterday's Menu" (1983); 

Until That Day

On December 13th 1981, Martial Law was imposed upon the people of Poland

Despair is dark                                                                                   The spurs of tyranny appal                                                                   Who dares remember that the world is thus,                                           That madness lurks among these men of power?

Impelled by passion's anguish                                                              Our global ignorance,                                                                          moves slowly through its infancy,                                                          All knowledge and achievement mocked.

More real than we imagine,                                                                  Stamped on the hearts of all,                                                                 This battle stifles                                                                                   And tyranny to tyranny returns In spite of martyrs.

The bloodshed sparks explosion,                                                       The soul cries damned into the night                                                     Cries damned into eternal night;                                                       This enemy is in the hearts of all.

Advancing spirit, innocent,                                                                      Is crushed in the guilty grip                                                                     Of those who want,                                                                                Who war with their own people.

We have learned nothing;                                                                    Our way of measuring is false.                                                                Sounding sleep's cruel solution                                                              We fathom the mystery                                                                            Hoping for a day when all will care                                                         And clocks can start.

Then the greed for glory, tempered,                                                        Will reach with will to serve                                                                     Beyond the power of words                                                   Persuading to value all the tears that stream;

Tears for ourselves, tears for the dead,                                                   Tears, tears and tears, so many more to shed                                        That honour those who unconsenting, lead,                                            Agitate                                                                                                                              Until the child's smile                                                                             Quiets the terror in the tired face                                                          And provides the promise                                                                     of man as he can  become.

We reach behind the bars;                                                                     No panic without time                                                                          So let time stand still,                                                                             Its flickering testimony stained                                                                By any hollow peace.

With safety suspect,                                                                               Forgotten freedom dredges from the silent                                            A holy protest.                                                                                         Rebellion trembles 'til the lamb comes home.

Saddened,                                                                                              Unable to anticipate,                                                                               We fight for a life,                                                                                    We fight for a living,                                                                                Thirsting an end                                                                                      We seek a beginning.                                                                             Powerless, we pray                                                                                And struggle with a world confused:                                                       Poland in our hearts,                                                                               Her universal flame a focus for our fears.

Hard learning -  when to react,                                                               But our lovers die protesting                                                                   So we need not travel far to find what's near.

Give us control,                                                                                      A rein upon our lives.                                                                              Calm and heal our memories                                                                  As we listen for the brave,                                                                      Who persevere amid this awful tide                                                        'Til freedom's truth again inspires                                                        To recompense at knowledge's brink                                                      The first flickering of virgin eyes

 THE ITALIAN VIEW

Places I will never visit,         Thoughts I must forget,                  not think, not ever,                   Hidden corners.

Behind the brandy bottle,                The dusty rusting bayonet,              Lies upon the side board.           Fabrics that were better never cut, Tales that children never knew, Things were best forgotten.

Of Artemis

She'd been locked behind a silent tongue. Close enough to take the moment when it came, but unable to reach the key.

Scared...                                                              what does it matter                                              now we're past it?

Her past had plunged                                          into a switchback dream world                             where lanterns light the care-torn tightrope        of slow surrender.

Our second meeting summoned Christ,              eagle winged,                                                      to calm the ruff of indecision                                that choked the afternoon.

As the web breaks and the stale years retreat, Heaven's twirling matrix seems to sense        and Christ and Icarus soar to station                   below a sun burning fast and familiar                  with the jazz of a thousand permutations;            a constant cycle of repetition                               forging the poem of today,                                    as one rises and the other falls.