for the lilacs

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in the garden of morning and the street of afternoon,
for the lilacs under the tree of evening.
for the lilacs the blue and the violet heart.
the lilacs that whisper the words
you have spoken to me, the lilacs that call out
the song i sing to your name.
for the lilacs in the wide street
where we walk the thousands and the millions
shouting we will not fight a war for the wealth
of banks and oil companies, our faces
bright with bronze and amber, our flags
red with clarity, in the light of the rising sun.
for the lilacs that are spring and autumn, may
and october, flame and renewal.
for the lilacs, which stand facing the armored marching ranks of empire,
the lilacs more potent than artillery shells,
more tender than summer rain.
you speak to me the murmuring voice in dreams.
i come to you my hands cupped
holding the clear water of moonlight.
we walk together in the silver music of the dawn
building the streets to the river.
we work together building the bridge to the green shore
the hills gold with honey.
for the lilacs in the evening wind
and the fountains of the night,
the flames of patience and the city of dove-songs.
in the gathering brightness we announce it:
these are our heartbeats, this is our emblem:
the hope and surge of our days and years:
the wave and courage of our cries and desires:
for the lilacs, the leaf coolness in our faces,
the dewdrops that touch our eyes,
for the lilacs, the petaled sweetness of our fingertips,
the dance and leap that sweep through us, our arms, our legs,
we move together up the long boulevard, along the high ridge,
together carrying all our days,
for the lilies the seeds of today,
for the roses the wings of tomorrow,
at the heart of the earth, upon the mantle of the world,
alive and arising and being born,
for us - for our legacies of crimson and our vermillion histories, yes -
for the lilacs.