Bring Out Your Lanterns

Dig us up from this grave, Father
And wipe the dirt from our eyes
You who are so old, so ancient, so cold
Yet, you still retain life, like an eternal relic
Bring us to the clearing and remind us of the song.

Bring out your lanterns and pick up your spades
Call out to your neighbors, your lovers, your slaves
We must not remain forgotten and alone,
Lost in the shadows of time
Retrieve us from these dusty, dark rooms
Where cruelty and oppression mark up our skin.

Under a father’s harsh judgment you cast our souls adrift
You who once fed us and clothed us, then betrayed us to the night
Have you forgotten what it was like to be so young?
So vulnerable, so uncertain, and full of pain?
Have you, Pilate-like, washed our blood from your hands,
Thus cleansing yourself and unburdening your conscience?

Bring out your lanterns and pick up your spades
Call out to your neighbors, your lovers, your slaves
March yourselves to the square and shout out
Show your fury at the god’s indifference
Plunge your daggers into their sacred hearts
And wash your souls in the sacred blood.

Bring out your lanterns and pick up your spades
Call out to your neighbors, your lovers, your slaves
Dig us up from the earth and carry our bodies
Through the streets.

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