Until We Were Blind To the Stars
Day joined to expired day,
nights lost to darkest night.
Another year has defected
to the phalanx arrayed against us,
their iron hooves now thundering,
their sheer number mocking
our plundered ranks.
Do we then muffle our laughter,
and await the slaughter?
Do we extend our wrists,
by the flood of years barnacled,
offer them to the tides to be manacled?
But no, we shall not forfeit the coming dawns,
nor grovel before time’s ghastly taunts.
Let us thumb our noses at these turncoat hours,
so their cackles shall forever be jarred by our song,
their armors singed by our bonfires,
and their bloating flesh branded with our footprints!
Let us empty ourselves into tomorrow
until we’ve drained our marrow,
so that the moons shall remember
that one sepia heartbeat in time
when we rose to the smiting hand,
again and again,
until we were deaf
to our hearts’ murmurs
and blind to the stars.
Copyright © Bernard Chan | Year Posted 2017
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