The West (poem)

It is hard
Hard
Hard
to teach about the West
to reveal in the simplicity of the docile Gentleman of Judea
to glory in aeternal Roma
to seek the catharsis of the cathedral

It is hard
Hard
Hard
to call for cultivation of our Heritage
to breathe new life
to seek hope on the road
to unite with the past

As it descends
Descends
Descends
to an orgy of blood
to an infernal circle
unimaginable by Dante’s vision
to an attack on life itself
to barbarism

The Huns are not at the gate
The Vandals do not threaten from afar
The Goths have not begun to array

The pillage is long over
The desecration far proceeded
So we look for St. Benedict to arise

but the monasteries are empty

and we are alone.