Document 604

Fields Needing Angels

Author(s): Maureen Sangster

Copyright holder(s): Maureen Sangster

Fields needing angels are full of foaming fury,
The harvest, like a whirlwind, never stays,
So, knocking on the North Sea, they ask for static glory,
Fields needing angels keep yesterday, today.

Horizons shimmer but the haystacks built are harnessed.
A bird, like a pebble, drops to tap the grain
And, fields demanding glory will howl until they're witnessed,
Yet, how silently, in guilty rage, the labourers stack the bales.

And fields needing angels will lash their foaming fury
Until in late prisons they shall meet their dead
Who, turned into good monsters, daughters, not a morning glory
Will have buds so unlike roses there'll be no baby's head.

Oh fields needing angels, how much they need angels
But not descended from the farming God to whom they pray
They needs angels of compassion who will split their staunch division
Between men and women, rich and poor and give ALL equal say

But those distant fields of fury preserve anger that no glory
Took matters into its hands, praised them for what they'd gained.
What? their miserable remittances wrenched from workers' hands and faces,
Our angels must resist land lust and land gain, RECLAIM!

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Fields Needing Angels