Meet With Green

© 2006 Carl Thomas Gladstone

Bring us through the day of fire
slit from our throats the battle cry
And green weíll make our proud return
with you, O Grower of the earth.

Don't let our hands or words or roots grow weak
Gather us and plant us here, along these tender streets
That those who pass will know
that you have brought us home,
That we may meet with green what once was fire.

The cities round us fall like snow,
quiet deaths but piling up.
Underneath, our own demise,
desperate we grab onto the cold.

Sweep away everything,
sweep away our graveled voice
of odium, and old words, Lord,
our silence will let forth a cry.
That we may meet with green what once was fire.

Zephaniah