THE FALLS OF ’76 by J. T. BLEU

I bring doubt and questions to the sight,

                From the oceans and the lakes;

I bear the pain of knowing the cause of

                Why such falls are not fakes.

From invisible wings I shake off the dew

                That woke my mind to sweet buds of

Thought– each brooding spark from my pilot

Who sits in the thunder and lightning

Struggling in howling fits of recognition

                As the jagged crag of a mountain appears

At the edge of the falls before dark.

Whenever I dream of waterfalls

                Under mountains, trees, or in shopping malls,

My spirit revives in the pale-blue white mist as

Smiles from the depths of a purple sea;

This land is yours and mine and the nurslings too;

                And the eagle aloft may sit by us still

As an earthquake rocks the burning sunrise

                With a crimson wall of wave after wave

Of new blood: churning, burning for freedom and

                The Love that remains when all is said and done

While my inspiration dissolves into rain.