Peace Can Come - 3
I hear wind sounds rushing, rush of
Returning cars to the hope of the busiest jobs
The whoosh, whoosh, of the rushing wheel –
To gather on the 12th night, the 12th night,
And rush to a celebration, a demonstration again tomorrow.
On the thirteenth, the thirteenth when
Change will have its way and can’t be held.
It is alive, it is palpable,
It can’t be stopped naught for hell.
Let your hands be clean without pause.
And your mask hold your mouth as the law is.
Let there be a Lord-predicted time of pestilence
Gone over north and over south and on the 14th.
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