~ by Charles A. Coulombe
I say the world is dreadful and dark,
which cause some, perhaps, to remark,
that I must be a horrid Manichee,
all caught up in duality.
But not all is bad that walks in flesh,
nor is all good that has none to thresh.
This we may see from that Demon brood,
enslaved by Suleiman-ben-Daoud,
or from some fresh-faced country lad,
whose lass’s smile makes so glad.
With her does a joyous advance
at harvest home’s rustic dance.
There is no nectar quite like wine
drunk with friends from a better time.
But horrid things of bestial state
wait outside the mystic gate.
Should they hear a human’s call,
those hounds of night charge and maul
the barrier our kindly God has put
to keep us safe from slime and soot.
That Night’s Black Agents put
wherever they set their odious claws.
They feel unbound by all the laws
that humans, in their folly, break.
It is not for Our Lady’s sake
that Bishops will their churches bared
or that, like bloody wolves, well laired
governments assist to murder young.
It’s not for love of Him, who once was hung
upon the Cross, that men crucify the Host,
profaning Him with unclean touch and boast.
But over this dark plain of Death’s avarice,
this world of sacerdotal cowardice,
through fog and darkness of the mind
I see the stars that spite of evil shine.
From ruined altars grows effulgent light;
enough in time to drown the darkest night,
now you who bear the Catholic name,
and follow Him who cured the lame.
Remember Chivalry, try the same,
perhaps you’ll gain an equal fame.