John Mark Williams - Best Wishes

May the bright growth and vernal
Shrivel like a rind within your hand
Your springtime years be desert
Midst the hiss of drifting sand
Your virgin seed lie scattered
Midst the low-life and the damned
And your homes fall to invaders, one by one

May the sultry suns and humid
Lurk like vagrant gypsies in your eyes
Your summer years be cheerless
Midst the plaint of peacock cries
Your orchards all lie plundered
Midst the drone of gorging flies
And your servants turn to thieving, one by one

May the high winds and mighty
Cry like new-found widows round your eaves
Your autumn years be desolate
Midst the smoke of burning leaves
Your harvest lands lie barren
Midst the ache of absent sheaves
And your women lie with strangers, one by one

May the cold snows and bitter
Lie like frozen pilgrims at your door
Your winter years be empty
Midst the armies of the poor
Your cattle all lie slaughtered
Midst the hordes of tooth and claw
And your children die in violence, one by one

John Mark Williams

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