Onto the Darkling Plain

Onto the darkling plain
from out of the darkling sky,
like knights of old
with banners bold,
I hear them thunder by.

Earth's bright terrible children
are coming home from the stars
riding steeds of laser beams
with babies raised in jars.

Swarming toward their home
across our skies they tear,
asteroid dust in their flashing smiles
and comet tails in their hair.

Earth your terrible children
are home from the stars at last,
but do you want them
and can you face them,
them, the future, us, the past?
With eternity at their shoulders,
they hear our baffling lies
and I see the glitter of tears
and the glitter of death in their eyes.

© Dora Siemel, 1977 All Rights Reserved