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Micah Blue Smaldone
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The Clearing
Bring them on their knees (?)
On the trunks of fallen trees
In a clearing freashly felled
The pitch will sweatly smell
The vulgar men will yell
All within ear shot 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 caste your frame aside
They've taken fat brides
And carved their soft sides
And left them out of doors
Where lesser beasts roared
And eagle vultures soared
But tie not your summer dress
let free your lily breast
And take the winds caress
Beyond the hands of man
Who tear what cannot mend
Who break what cannot bend
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Who build a fearful court
To house their wicked sport
What silver heads exhort
That guilty they are not
Of blood forever rot
The sun will never clot
So clip the angels wings
And let the axis swing
Till arms are aching
And blades have fallen deep
For even they must sleep
And shelter they must seek
Admist their own debris
But yonder stands a tree
And in its shadowy
May take a deeper kiss
untress the broken fist
To love, is to resist
Be old, enbittered flow
And the wind again will blow
And the forest again to grow
And your eyes again will shine
Like the pitch of the ancient pines
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