Classic Poem

Between grief on my knees and death on my feet
I choose death:
between a safe silence and a voice that's bloodied
I choose the voice:
between a slap and a bullet
I choose the bullet:
between the sword and the whip
I choose the sword:
This is my destiny and my glory,
this is the longing of man.

Once God was love, a plentiful cloud,
daylight at night,
a song extended
over the hills of grief,
a heaven that washed with green rain
the furrows in the earth.
Where did the ship of God go? Where the song and man's rebellion?

Now God is ashes, silence,
a terror in the executioners' hands,
an earth swelling with oil,
a field where rosaries and turbans grow.

Between God the song of revolution
and the god coming from Hollywood
on tapes, in stacks of dollar bills:
I choose God the song, I choose God the revolution.

Love was a springtime for all seasons,
a lovely girl whose supple feet
rested on the sea, whose palms
touched the sun.
Her braids spread over the green hills of poetry,
she had bread for her lovers,
the wine of luscious dreams was on her lips.

Now love's tree has grown old,
love's eyes are dull,
the leaves of poetry have been torched,
all seasons are winter,
love has become banknotes and the hearts of men
have turned to ice.

Between love the deal and love the poetry:
I choose love, I choose poetry.