Muffle the drums

[Guest guest]

From a piece of writing I did for a storytelling list.

 

Muffle the drums

 

Lower the flags,

There is no triumph here.

Muffle the drums,

Their unbated snap does not sing here.

Cover the guns.

Their sparkle does not please the eye here.

 

Let no green thing die to make a coffin,

Rather, choose wood that the Mother has already given us.

Let it be beautiful, with complex grain and strength.

Work it gently, let it tell its own story.

Line it with softness and care.

 

We will come.

WE will kneel before the coffin.

We will think we know what we are honoring.

We will believe that we grieve for the lost.

WE will wail that the families will not be alone.

We will tear our flesh and hair.

We will shed tears enough to put out any fire.

 

And when we file past the coffin, we will look down,

Thinking to see the face of a stranger or a loved one.

But it will not be so.

Oh, the coffin is not empty,

This is not Jesus' tomb on the third day.

There is no resurrection here.

 

We will see instead Martin's dream and Gandhi's patience.

We will see love of the other smiling bravely up through the death rictus.

There are the ashes of tolerance.

There, the dismembered limbs of human warmth.

 

The sermon is of justice,

Of retribution for loss inflicted,

Of strength where weakness invites slaughter.

But slaughter is already here,

Wearing the vestments and holding the cross.

 

 

_

September 13, 2001

 

May you always know magic, may you rarely know pain.

May your days in the sunlight best your days in the rain.

And as you love one another may you find love again,

And make merry the hearts of our children.

 

by Adam Walks-Between-Worlds.