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The Dark Hour
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By Jane E. Pearce
Other Poems by Jane E. Pearce


The Dark Hour

 

Our Mother reels
wounded and shocked
from evil's violent rains,
her children's security
forever rocked,
across her golden plains

Her Children's blood
is mixed with debris,
our prayers watered by tears,
but her banners wave in the wind,
as she yet cradles you and me,
and will for all our years.

For she is strong
like a bastion of steel,
her spine still lines straight,
and she will emerge from this wrong
with iron will that stems the reel,
and with God's hand on the gate.


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Submitted: Saturday, September 15, 2001

Last Updated: Thursday, September 7, 2006

About the Poet
Hi!!-I am a retired RN,who loves genealogy, poetry,music, my family(two daughters and six grandchildren),a golfing hubby, who is a retired engineer. Born and grew up in upper NY state. Been in PA about 40 years. These years, life is pretty simple and enjoyable. Oh yeah-I adore the computer and the friends I've made on it.


Other Poems by Jane E. Pearce


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