The Here And Hallowed Ground
What makes the hallowed ground? The words of men?
Or is it where we die, or dream of, live?
I would have thought it where foot fell, and when
The blessing is the joy we feel and give.
We now know anger, death, destruction, bring
No good to life, no matter how we lie,
No patriotic platitude, we sing
Redeems the anger causing some to die.
All notions, nations, stories told, are made
Of human wanting, yes! Of star dust too!
But never worthy of the homage paid
If ritual is used to make it true;
No death and dying makes for hallowed ground,
No notion, nation, story told is bound.
DayPoems Poem No. 2450
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2450.html">The Here And Hallowed Ground by William Brendan McPhillips</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor