In the Absence of the Queen

Hark! Hark!
He who has ears to hear let him hear!

The spring moon bathes the tired shepherd in its’ silver splendor
The crying loon plays the harp for the raging money lender
A weeping tune for blood been spilt by ghostly legal tender
For the Queen brings doom to those who don’t try to defend her

The towering hands have aged themselves to untimely arthritic death
The sidewalk brands the stiff necked man with a cracked lungs breath
He proudly stands behind the sun in a suit of threaded meth
While the winds of ancients whisper tales far older than Macbeth

The loser Queen sleeps in swaying trees beneath the screaming stars
The demons seen have chased her to her place amongst the larks
While the newborn dean ensures the sea it can’t hear her from afar
But she keeps her reign beneath the floors and in the howl of the choirs

The child see’s the wasted words spew from the crumbling caves
His heart decrees the world will see the hero that it craves
But on his knees before the sea he’s washed beneath the waves
He screams his pleas so futily for his lungs, the Queen to save

I say these things for the Queen who waits behind your face
My song, it sings to clear a path for her to take her place
And stop the struggling gasps of those in a winless race
So they might bring their feet to rest and feel the Queen’s embrace

~Patrick Shults
April 2009