The Watchmen
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The Watchmen
A Psalm
By the Watchman Dana G Smith
The wind blows, wafting gently over the hills,
past the prairie, onto the stand of pines.
In the distance, these pines stand aloft, looking forward,
standing strong on the cleft of the rocks.
Here on these sheer peaks, they look on as watchmen,
greeting the winds, holding back the sway of the gentle breezes.
The watchmen, erect on the tower, look over the prairie.
All is well, they seem to speak, settle down, and turn away.
The wind grows, gentle at first, then shifting more violently,
howling and screaming torments at the watchmen,
these look on, facing the fury at its peak.
These watchmen, though, give ear to its cries,
losing ground to the force so strong, bending not a lot, just a little.
Then, looking again, out over the prairie, they announce “all is well.”
These watchmen turn again and look out,
this time the force of the wind is stronger, more fury than ever,
its voice howling threats at the watchmen on the cliffs above.
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Watchmen, though strong, some give way, lost in the fierce fray,
in this fight, roots give way, to this foe that does not stall.
The battle wages on, the wind grows, the rain join forces,
then hail, with all the fury of hell itself, moves into the battle.
The watchmen begin to lose ground, many seem to be lost,
on this day the fighting is tough, but alas, many are gone,
though looking strong outwardly, appearing as a fortress,
are uprooted and tossed, thrown to the wind,
for you see, these had no deep roots to keep them, none at all.
In the morning, quietness is over the battlefield,
the crispness of the air is so serene, while stillness pervades everywhere,
the sun reaches over its horizon, pulling up to survey the war torn scene.
Looking on from the cliff, is the posting of the watchmen,
damages can be seen, but look, some remain.
Wonder of wonders, glories of glory,
watchmen remain, not many, looking out from above,
strong as ever, watching for another tempest to pass their way,
these standing tall, tougher than ever, these had roots,
in the battle, these gave up no ground, they stood firm.
Praise God Almighty, these had roots, how about you?
The End of the Watchmen,
given Oct 2000
The Watchman Dana Smith
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