The Seven Trumpets

—for the truckers and their families

“Then I looked, and the seven angels that stand in the presence of God were given seven trumpets.” —Revelation 8:2, New Testament

 

The capital reverberates with air horns—

the trumpets of New Jerusalem rolling

into town on sixteen-wheeled chariots.

 

The Carnival of the Free has come

with ball hockey and bouncy castles

to shake loose the gnawing frost

 

paralyzing a nation’s soul.

Reapers of truth draped in flags,

doing the one-foot, two-foot dance

 

of minus-22. And they will separate

the wicked from the good by their song.[1]

What demons could hear the horns

 

of the Seven Angels as shrieking

insurrection? What parliamentary

gargoyles grind limestone teeth

 

to hear this choir sublime? “All we ask,”

said the convoy organizers, “is that

the prime minister sit down and talk to us.”

 

But Hell’s minions do not discuss.

They send blinded horses to run down

old women and pepper spray reporters

 

 

in the face—forgetting, Judgment Day

has a long, long memory for pain.

To merely obey orders is no defense.

 

Who obeys the Ode to Joy has no fear,

for the Kingdom is already within them.

Winter clouds boil black over halls of power,

 

Parliament Hill so empty it echoes

the prime minister’s footsteps—utterly

alone, marked like Cain for the bile

 

and brimstone of history’s torment.

Our bridge home a superstructure

of truck trailers spanning the horizon

 

from sea to sleepwalking sea.

 

 

©2022 Sean Arthur Joyce

[1] Matthew 13:49, New Testament

About seanarthurjoyce

I am a poet, journalist and author with a strong commitment to the environment and social justice. If anything, I have too many interests and too little time in a day to pursue them all. Film, poetry, literature, music, mythology, and history probably top the list. My musical interests lie firmly in rock and blues with a smattering of folk and world music. I consider myself lucky to have lived during the great flowering of modern rock music during its Golden Age in the late 1960s/early '70s. In poetry my major inspirations are Dylan Thomas, Rilke, Neruda and the early 20th century British/American poets: Auden, Eliot, Cummings. My preferred cinema includes the great French auteurs, Kirosawa, Orson Welles, and Film Noir. My preferred social causes are too numerous to mention but include banning GMOs, eliminating poverty (ha-ha), and a sane approach to forest conservation and resource extraction. Wish me—wish us all—luck on that one!
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