Lowland Famine

Mother of famine benighted in blood
The common man's plague helpless to the inevitable
How can you demand such suffering of those devout?
You've razed the fields and brought forth drought
A future of grimness awaits those who stay blind
Some pathetic tome or the passing of time
Waste not want not the flesh of those lost
Those bound to work thresh the yield dead from frost

Upon the Moon I gaze
A lowland vision appears
I call upon you mother
Absolve us of our fears
But the night sky yields no forgiveness
No resolution from that which plagues
A cold and dreary silence is the answer to our prayers

Mother of sufferance will punish unmercifully
Candidly she watches
And revels in our agony

You have taken that which affords us life as if snuffing out a dying flame
Gratitude is no satiation
For your hunger it will not cease
On our fears, our pain, our peasantry
With devastating appetite our mother glibly feasts

Upon the Moon I gaze
A vision of lowlands lost
I plead with you: Oh mother
Why have you plagued us with such frost
A black sky yields no forgiveness
No solution for that which maims
I hear our mother's laughter
As her children endure such loss