A Bright New Dawn

Morning   noon and night  even on the demanded day

of rest

                 the wanderers arrive   exhausted and afraid

the soldiers see nothing  but pleasure in spitting fear

into their eyes

                            We sing the glory of this beaten down

place

          as if the hero who  was prophesized  

still rules our paths with care

                                                     But only

the most willfully blind can sing those songs

when the invaders claim our heartbeats 

as the rhythm with which to dance their control

Count them

                       each arrival must be captured

in the ledger from which our sustenance 

is calculated

                        So when he stood here

asking for shelter before she fell into

the road   covered with shame   trembling

to force our gaze away from her swollen

womb

               I stopped   for just long enough

to exhale my well-adapted mindless trance

and took them to the stable

ii.

We are the inheritors of dust

the cracked  dried branches of a tree

that has forgotten how to bear fruit

                                                          We

do not sing the promises shouted

so long ago

                          We are here only to discard

every thought of a bright new dawn

She could be heard everywhere

groaning out something more than struggle

It was not 

                   until the young men

crowded into the door   demanding

to see  a child

                         that I heard

how odd my breath was sounding

We went in

                    the young ones pushing

past me

              more hungry than the mules

and oxen in the stable

                                    falling against

each other

                 staring   staring  until frozen

with their long- unrequited hunger

They let their eyes  feast upon

the child

               resting in the hay