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The Chanters – a poem

October 10, 2017 - 21:01 -- Admin

The chanters

I have retreated
Not to the mountains
But to the conurbation
That mass of humanity
Spreading itself across the land

And the sea
We cannot forget the sea
For it does not forget us
Or those
Who wave the tide away

Which is what we all do
Do we not?
When reality imposes itself
On a life grown weak by strength
And brave faces

We are all stoics now
Somehow
But that is not material
For in the world of slaves
There is no joy

I will roll the mountain
Up again, and again
It never ends, this rolling
Up, then down
Up and down

That is our life,
Is it?
No words, no visit
Just a parachute
To plummet down

Guided by the clown
A laugh will end the fear
No one volunteers
A smile
The jokes are dead

And so we retire
To bed, forever bed
Where the flames crash
Red, upon the soil
That is destiny

Yours, mine, all
The tortured mind
In a tortured soul
Made whole, by incantations
The chants never end

Only the chanters do

John Passant 10 October 2017