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by Denny Lancaster
230420
First they sailed from our precious shore,
with hope and prayers for the tedious war,
till at first light with our prayers besought
and injured power, better omens bought.
And now our navy plows the water main,
yet, soon expect it on our shores again,
with those not pleased, as history did ordain.
But first, to reconcile the blue eyed maid,
for this iron statue, and towers betrayed,
warned by the world, to her offended name
we raised, and delicate this wondrous frame,
so lofty, lest through forbidden gates
history shall pass to intercept our fates.
For, once admitted there, our hope is not lost:
and of this new world order a Palladium boast.
For so religion and our God did ordain,
that if we HIM, violate with words profane
HIS gift, our world in flames shall burn,
with an omen, the good books page turn!
But if we climb, with HIS helping hands,
the iron maiden, and in the city stands,
when hate and intolerance in all shall burn,
and reverse the fate of God, who does return.
With vanished deceits HE will gain in our hearts,
too prone and credit earth with Heavens arts,
what God, and a gift of an earthly born son,
a thousand ships, nor all wars have done.
Washed our tears and hate - HIS city won.
A greater prayer, and better world portent,
did our unwary minds with fear torment,
concurring to produce the dire event.
Yet, made with zeal, and blinded by state
we haul along those to reckon with our fate,
then place love again skyward with a tower,
cried again, and cursed the unhappy hour;
Foretold our fate; but, by our Gods decree,
all heard, and none believed, the prophesy.
With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste
in wars end ordained to be the last we would taste
while heaven rolled down on the last night
and Gods word was proclaimed again in light.
Our men secure, nor guards nor sentries held
but easy sleep our weary limbs compelled.
Those few who remained awoke to raise the gate,
while in Heaven or Hell others awoke to meet fate,
and 10,000 with the ghost in Satan's sight appears
but they were covered with a shroud in tears.
Such was the end, when hate and fear were slain,
and the wind howled across the barren plain.
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Footnote: The poem was written Easter Day 2003. After morning mass the author gathered bits and pieces of verse which had been written after 911 and the death of our granddaughter in
April of 2001, trying to write a poem which reflected these dire events and our conversion experience.
It was not until after evening mass that the poem the Iron Maiden Prophesy finally came together in a finished form. And at last a wee tribute to those fallen and one who has pray fully
risen - from sin.
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