A judge’s gavel stays the sudden stroke That sought to sever cradle from the ground; The ancient charter of the soil awoke, To keep the native promise whole and sound. While down the marble halls, the leaders sign A midnight budget on a hurried line, Averting darkness at the government’s door Before the autumn ballots count the score. Across the sea, the Gulf’s warm waters churn, Where retaliatory rockets split the night; The oil barrels climb, the harbors burn, As empires brace beneath a sharpening fight. In fear of trembling vaults and shifted weight, The Dutch reclaim their bullion through the strait, Hauling their gold from western shores away To London mist, against a darker day. Beneath the barracks roof, the vials fill, As generals measure strength within the vein, Ordering manhood tested by decree and will To steel the ranks for battle and for strain. While in the courts, the state defends the machine, Shielding the stolen words on every screen, Even as city schoolrooms lock the gate To keep synthetic shadows from the slate. Yet sorrow stalks the pavement near and far: A flash of malice by a Tucson tavern door, Where hatred struck beneath a desert star And spilled out heartbreak on a dancehall floor. In Minneapolis, the rented stairways bleed, Three lives extinguished by a violent deed, Five wounded weeping in the sirens’ wail, As fragile peace and sudden mercies fail. And locked away from light, twelve jurors wait, Five heavy days immersed in grief and doubt; They hold the fractured pieces of a fate, Unable yet to sort the madness out. The world turns wild with trade and blood and law, Held fast within the current's restless jaw.
