Kings and queens
Neither rich
Nor liveried,
Pass in the street.
Kings and queens
Rub unnoticed
Against us;
Nobility shines
As if clouds had parted;
There are streets in this town on whose corners
Alms are given by people in rags barely less threadbare
Than the rags of beggars.
There are back-street houses down narrow lanes
Where doors open to take in the weak,
Where modest hands reach out to the destitute.
If there is danger in our promised land
And disaster seems to stalk our waking hours,
When the sky falls at last and, in our sleep,
Nightmare comes to rouse us and bids us flee,
Then the crownless kings and queens -
Whose realms are hidden,
Whose kingdoms know no borders,
Rescue us where we lie.
Uncrowned,
They soothe us back to life
Or bury us gently
With sad and solemn words.
© BH, 2017
An afterthought on unsung heroics. Or a reflection on ‘rank is but the guinea stamp, the man’s the gowd for aa that’.
Nobility shines.
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