Evening land

Strike a chord on a sunbeam
We begin to play

Listen, listen to our lament
In the east the killing fields of yellow sun and skies so blue
Bold resistance a surprise
Blood and darkness spent

Listen, listen to this sound
In the middle of the land ships sink and take breaths away
To our darkness we are bound
Takes my breath away

Listen, listen in
on our every word
It's for the children, that's what they say
The ones that matter or the ones we cannot hear?

Heartbeat, what to do
When the darkness in our hearts matters not
but the darkness in drowning faces does

Sunset on the western shore
Whose hand, whose choice tore us apart?
Above the gulls cry
and so do we, so do I

Evening land it's called, not the land of night
So sing: there is no darkness
No, no darkness here
as we're carried by the bull or its behind

Is this where we stand?
There is no darkness in our hearts
at least: there shouldn't be

This poem was written in an airplane flying over Europe in May 2024. I tweaked the text in early 2025.