Warriors Rags

Warriors rags worn
Like the robe of the King
Peasants voices in the fields
As fine as any minstrals sing

Of a time of mourning
Though the grackles screech
And the bamboo dancing in the wind
Does reach

A warm place
In a tearful heart
Where forces fought against you
But joy did her part

And left you
Ready to face
The trembling uncertainty
The gentle saving grace


October 1987
*
transribed this time
8:19 pm
01/02/2005
*
From the manuscript
Street Animal