(I.)
Cast these divinity runes
To hear their telltale tunes
(Oh, Chief Priest of Orsu),
And speak the mind of the gods!
Speak of the dusking dawn
That beclouds the horizon,
The shrinking sweating sun
That appears worn and torn,
The rapture-like foggy morn
That arrests glares and gun.
This dawning premonition
This dusking tribulation
This glaring Inquisition
This staring culmination
This grappling situation
This gaveling litigation…
Will it end in mere admonition,
Or option-less incarceration?
(II.)
The sharp stinging blows of Law
Like the tearing blades of the stingray,
Will it see you to Golgotha,
See you to Daniel’s Den,
See you to Gordon’s nest
See you to Calypso’s Ogygia,
Or merely stain you with Poseidon’s kiss?
Just cast these ancient runes,
Oh, Chief Priest of Orsu,
And speak at once to us
Of the actual voice of the gods!
Speak of the mightiness of the gavel
Hovering o’er your head,
The weightiness of the statute
Lingering o’er your stature,
The holiness of public policy
Working against your nature.
Just speak to the gods at once
Oh, Chief Priest of Orsu
And tell us of the victor of this war
Between the Oracle and Law.
— Bolaji S. Ramos
18042024
