‘The Phoenix will rise yet again … And we will be restored…’ –John Gonzales. Courtesy photo

By JOHN GONZALES
Los Alamos

The sun is hiding as the land is darkened
Was sent a harbinger, danger?
The tears of the mourning, of insane raging
the weeping and gnashing of teeth?
The sign in the heavens foretold
Lives lost counted as cost – oh the souls that are lost –
as fools do blunder
do they expect us surrender?
As the birds grow irritated in wild places

Evil strengthened by rage is upon the stage and it casts itself
unto the breach
To desecrate the holy place
as the Griffith arises
To stand or fall – the wall is tall
As the horned beast roams the sacred halls
as the leader is cast into the flame
The darkened rage added fuel for the fire
in his wretched name

Hope lost, or things to come?
History replete of action repeated
Within the halls – before the fall
an echo picked up again, to a place before
And swiftly it rises from hot dry places
to show us its face yet again
As stomachs are churning
spirit is yearning, for the return of the light
that we be made sacred again
To turn from our sin
to escape and win the day and to flee from the night
of whose wrong or right

To stand united restored, and no longer blighted
Where the sacred halls of the temple are holy again
And washed clean from the breach,
assault on the cause of forefather’s intentions
As the blunder sounds the signs and the wonders
Of tumultuous tempestuous temerity

The horned beast – the unholy thing – stands in the holy place
Is it lost, oh the cost – metaphor of things to come?
Abomination upon our beloved nation
a sign of desolation?
The flag at half-mast and eyes averted
As the shame of the nation dances its children do prances
as the die is cast to what was, and what is, and what is to come?
And the temple is shaken unto the breach
And the past is replete with lessons for nations – and human relations
To grow wise is the reward of the cost of what we have lost

As we look to the mirror, as we look to the sky
The sky seems to fall as the sun it grows black
And so, what mark – can we remember the spark
and take hold of the flame yet again?

Will Phoenix rise from the ashes of the thing standing in holy places?

As we count our dead
the monolith rises to be reborn yet once and again
So, count the cost of those we have lost
and put our house in order
instead of surrender
To make right the wrong – we have suffered too long

A solemn vow with heads bowing low
that each person – that we will make it somehow

The Phoenix will rise yet again
And we will be restored to keep
the faith of our fathers
As the sun rises to warm us
Yet again