Rooks

I see the distant Wolds in shimmering haze
And fields of corn that gently sway;
Beyond the farm where sheep now safely graze
Soaring kites hunt their prey.

My life, I know, so peaceful, tranquil and sure -
So back I lie and close my eyes;
Sleepy thoughts now turn to realms obscure,
Rooks circle above - I hear their cries.

Their cries - angry and louder and louder become,
Shrieks demonic my ears assailing;
No longer at rest, nor sure, peaceful and calm,
I hear the dead screaming and wailing.

The drowned: from their watery graves scream to the stars,
The slaughtered shriek from the fields of death;
The falsely gaoled implore through prison bars,
The beheaded cry out for revenge with every breath.

The dispossessed, unemployed, trafficked and molested,
The homeless who sleep in doorways and tents;
The drug abusers, pushers, beggars and demented,
The alcoholic prostrate on the Market bench.

The rooks are gathered in judgement - “Guilty!” they cry
Louder and louder they screech and wail;
My ears, so lashed, no longer ring with joy,
“Guilty!” ….  My soul their cries assail.

My life I knew - so peaceful, tranquil and sure -
I’d relaxed and closed my eyes;
My thoughts had drifted and roamed to realms obscure,
Where now, my thoughts amongst their cries?

I look, and see the Wolds In shimmering haze,
The kites above now circle and soar;
So peaceful the sight of corn that gently sways,
The rooks are quiet and cry no more.