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.