This small naval observatory sights shoals ahead. Who has the helm?


IN IRONS!

My country – dear Lord, how I love her!
But she’s coming apart at the seams.
A star-spangled banner still flutters,
But where are those patriot dreams?

Her spacious skies smiled on the millions,
Now frown, sore beset by the few
“In irons!” the sailor describes it -
What’s the sovereign republic to do ?

Our table for many is Freedom:
Each place has a limitless cost!
Precious Liberty faces a crisis,
Hard won – yet so easily lost…

The Law exists – sober, majestic,
From which honest souls may not shirk.
All heroes who fell to protect it
Now muster, observing our work.

Across regal ridges the echoes,
Come down amber fields, rich with grain,
The dreams and the faith of our Founders:
Must rise to their moment again.

So many, the years passed before us –
Too few now, the ones there, ahead!
This way we abide is a low road,
Where linger the sleepless – the dead.

The choice is a clarion trumpet:
Will we heed it, or senselessly stray
Down a byway that leads to Perdition?
Friend, that is the challenge today.

021710

© Steven C. Myers