The Harvesting You Feared Has Come

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Oxen!
Bring them forth
that Satan’s angels may feast
upon the howling earth,
thy will be done,
Nema, ti si os.

Heaped high upon
thy fruitful plains,
chafed and charred limbs
sing their song like
sizzling water
on a red-hot plate,
thy will be done,
Nema, ti si os.

White smoke ascends
the scarlet landscape
while oxen bellow
their pitiful cries…
pleading mercy,
mercy, mercy…
though none is given,
thy will be done,
Nema, ti si os.