Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GOD PRAYS, by ANGELA MORGAN Poet's Biography First Line: Last night I tossed and could not sleep Last Line: I know at last 'tis god who prays. Subject(s): Peace; Religion; Theology | ||||||||
Last night I tossed and could not sleep. When sodden heavens weep and weep, As they have wept for many a day, One lies awake to fear and pray. One thinks of bodies blown like hail Across the sky where angels quail; One's sickened pulses leap and hark To hear the Horror in the dark. "What is Thy will for the people, God? Thy will for the people, tell it me! For War is swallowing up the sod And still no help from Thee. Thou who art mighty hast forgot; And art Thou God or art thou not? When wilt Thou come to save the earth Where death has conquered birth?" And the Lord God whispered and said to me, "These things shall be, these things shall be, Nor help shall come from the scarlet skies Till the people rise! Till the people rise, my arm is weak; I cannot speak till the people speak; When men are dumb, my voice is dumb I cannot come till my people come." And the Lord God's presence was white, so white, Like a pillar of stars against the night. "Millions on millions pray to me Yet hearken not to hear me pray; Nor comes there any to set me free Of all who plead from night to day. So God is mute and Heaven is still While the nations kill." "Thy people have travailed much!" I cried "I travail even as they," God sighed. "I have cradled their woe since the stars were young My infant planets were scarcely hung When I dreamed the dream of my liberty And planned a people to utter me. I am the pang of their discontent, The passion of their long lament I am the Purpose of their pain, I writhe beneath their chain." "But Thou art mighty and need'st no aid. Can God the Infinite be afraid?" "They too are God yet know it not. 'Tis they not I who have forgot. And War is drinking the living sod," Said God. "Thy people are fettered by iron laws And each must follow a country's cause, And all are sworn to avenge their dead How may the people rise?" I said. And thenGod's face! It was white, so white, With the grief that sorroweth day and night. "Think ye I planted my Image there That men should trample it to despair? Who fears the throe that rebellion brings Hath bartered God for the will of kings." "Help them to stand, O Christ!" I prayed. "Thy people are feeble and sore afraid." "My people are strong," God whispered me, "Broad as the land, great as the sea; They will tower tall as the tallest skies, Up to the level of my eyes When they dare to rise. Yea, all my people, everywhere! Not in one land of black despair But over the flaming earth and sea Wherever wrong and oppression be The shout of my people must come to me. Not till their spirit break the curse May I claim my own in the universe; And this the reason of war and blood That men may come to their angelhood. If the people rise, if the people rise I will answer them from the swarming skies Where Herculean hosts of might Shall spring to splendor over night. Blazing systems of sun and star Are not so great as my people are, Nor chanting angels so sweet to hear As the Voice of the nations, freed from fear. They are my mouth, my breath, my soul! I wait their summons to make me whole." All night I toss and I cannot sleep; When shattered heavens weep and weep As they have wept for many days I know at last 'tis God who prays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MYSTIC BOUNCE by TERRANCE HAYES MATHEMATICS CONSIDERED AS A VICE by ANTHONY HECHT UNHOLY SONNET 11 by MARK JARMAN SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE COMING OF THE PLAGUE by WELDON KEES A LITHUANIAN ELEGY by ROBERT KELLY |
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