The Great Wail

The weight of the thing.

Immense.

Its pitch, many could not hear,

And those that did, shed a tear

They could not bear it,

Its tone, a totem pole,

A poisoned spiked cactus,

That rose from the ground.

It hit against the walls that crumble

When eyes slam shut.

It reached deep, a bunker buster,

It asked a question:

What strength is left to muster?

It was un called for.

It broke the back of folk lore,

The dewy lies that induce sleep,

Snoozing minds,

At once, the cogs began to grind,

You feel the shock, and feel alive

Thought once more beginning to thrive

It is unwelcome to you, no?

Pain so ordinary, many did not lift a brow.

For those that did, the brow was quickly down

Collapsing mines of coal and grime,

That heavy muscle, no support left to rustle.

Let the great wail hit,

Like the storm.

Batten down all that can be maimed with nail,

The frail will be gone in the shale,

Let It pass, and if the eye is all around,

Then go to ground

Do not let the wail

Become a cradle.