Words for the Chisel (collection)/Doomsday Morning

by Genevieve Taggard

Doomsday Morning

Dear to God who calls and walksUntil the earth aches with his tread,Summoning the sulky dead,We'll wedge and stiffen under rocks,Or be mistaken for a stone,And signal as children do, "Lie low,"Wait and wait for God to go.

The risen will think we slumber onLike slug-a-beds. When they have goneTrooped up before the Judgment Throne,—We in the vacant earth alone—Abandoned by ambitious souls,And deaf to God who calls and walksLike an engine overheadDriving the disheveled dead,—We will rise and crack the groundTear the roots and heave the rocks,And billow the surface where God walks,And God will listen to the soundAnd know that lovers are belowWorking havoc till they creepTogether from their sundered sleep.

Then end, world! Let your final darkness fall!And God may call and call and call.