The dust rose over my eyes…: A poem 

I dreamt last night 

that the dust rose over my eyes 

right up to the skies 

But was there a clarity in the mist? 

Did I beat a door with my fists? 

I seemed to think the war is over 

If I left, would it ever? 

Would the trappists remain, now, still 

Because there has been too much abduction of my fellow-armies by evil? 

I am so inhibited in my own free will! 

Can, then, freedom be a savoury or distasteful pill? 

I had choreographed the trumpets 

How can I see them fall? 

Is rock-and-roll the end-all 

Righteous men had their backs against the wall 

I think not of Israel as my Promised Land 

I haven’t, anyway, got a free hand! 

 Doesn’t anyone believe I’ve resigned? 

Do I have it sticking on my mind? 

I haven’t the papers yet signed! Do you think I’m behind? 

What has destiny, of me, assigned?