In the revisionist spirit of hip-hop, and of the season, I've again sampled some great poets (Emily Dickinson, William Shakespeare, John Newton, Dylan Thomas) and a very minor one—that would be me—to offer a prayer that might get us through the approach of these fearful, unholy nights. To wit: Dickinson, “Tell All the Truth”; Shakespeare, “Macbeth,” Act I, scene vii; Newton, “Amazing Grace”; Thomas, “O make me a wall”; Livingston, “This Prisoner.”
Every man was blind:
The truth had dazzled them--suddenly.
The eyes around had wrung them dry,
Their tears had drowned the wind.
But now these sightless couriers of the air
Have roused themselves--foolishly:
Their faith belies this reality,
Once blinded by the light,
But now they see.
What crowds these dull skies
As darkness falls—again?
This change rides a slow horse,
And today the spectacled talons of the sun
Lose their grip, these bayonet eyes
Are saddled with grief—belatedly:
In mourning for the light,
So now they flee.
Everyone has lied:
These restless years—have done
Their damage, etched by your tears,
They line your face.
Your deepest fears have held you ransom:
Pay for this prisoner—he’s your slave,
Pray for this prisoner,
End these days.