Debt To Injustice

 How many times can the mountains I scale?

Oh how many times of this life to prevail?

For goodbyes fail to greet this coming need,

As from the brink of desolation

I arise once more from broken seed.

Yet again, I say to the barren sea,

 How many times can these dry bones rise?

How many more times, and what number of ways

 when all avenues of hope close fast,  then  whither and die?

 For these days of splendor, are days so few,

Which leave much to wonder, with too little time to do.

For eyes, grow weak on the coming night so bleak

As unto the darkness, I shall see this repentant heart greet.

Yea, but from the entourage one does now clearly hear,

The well meaning words of Look up… be happy and do not fear.

Yet, it is from these bleeding eyes, which comes the red soul of night.

Buried once, only to rise,

Buried twice, yet I still survive,

Yet planted now in this fertile ground,

My eternal darkness does grow and greatly abound.

Aye, but I will not cry…nor should there be the word goodbye

 Yes, yes maybe it is good to end this way,

With the knowing knowledge of knowing…

That my final debt to injustice has been paid.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005