
Death of Chatterton by Henry Wallis 1856
Poet cast your spell upon our imaginations to see a way beyond this fight
Use your words to help us see another path than the road to hell we’ve paved
Be the prophet who helps us see the humanity in those we’ve demonized
Be the statesman who can inspire the better angels of our humanity
Be the sage whose wisdom can cut through the proud prognostication of fools
Move us beyond our fear, teach us to hope again and poet
End this war!
Poet, I know that in the past your words have fallen upon ears that no longer hear
Made deaf by the frenetic posturing of the pundits and politicians with their promises
You spoke an inconvenient truth as others shouted what seemed attractive lies
Quiet our minds so we can hear the peaceful words you softly uttered in our midst
Still our tongues and turn us away from the screens that distract us and close our eyes
So that we might see the visions you dream and poet
End this war!
Poet, I know this request would be easier if your lips still moved and your heart still beat
If we had honored your presence among us rather that branding you a pariah
If your difficult words, which were the medicine we needed, we received as a prescription
Instead they became the justification used for your surgical removal from society
For we danced the bloody dance where steel and lead are mightier than the pen
Where prophets and poets, statemen and sages are those out of step and out of time
We have drunk this bloody feast, this unholy communion and poet
End this war!
Poet, as I read your words through the tears in my eyes something broke inside my heart
I have consumed your words which were so sweet but turned to sourness in my gut
Your words were the mirror we needed to look inside to see how we far we fell
The poet may be gone but the poetry remains and there is some magic left in these scrolls
My dry bones sit in this boneyard hoping for some wind of inspiration to breath
When I hear your spirit whispering softly in my ear, “Poet
End this war!”