Revelation

From near the edge of a midnight's dark poison arrows hunt the meadowlark, Words still echo through a message stark; from somewhere far the last two dogs bark. Like thunder rolling across the plain, hooves trample over those whom were slain; Sacred grounds are treated with disdain when guardians no longer remain. Distant mountains hold tomorrow's song that calls to those that hope to belong, Journeys to there are but for the strong and those that have learned the right from wrong. Bluebird's tunes once bade a fond farewell for some forced to move from whence they dwell, The will ne'er know for whom tolls the bell; even less will have stories to tell. Now no longer stands a rule of thumb carried by the music which was strum, The hearts now beat like a broken drum; to escape you must play deaf and dumb . . . For the future holds no promised key to let loose those born of slavery, Yet trumpets rise from across the sea, sounding the call to eternity.