Rusty Dawson
Honorable Mention
"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we
wept, when we remembered Zion."
Ps. 137:1
We wept cold tributary tears beside
Chaldean’s ruthless flow. By Babylon’s
polluted stream we raised lament and died
by drops, our spirits far from Zion’s dawns.
Upon the willows’ languid arms we hang
our harps in sad display. They long for hands
whose cunning skills recall sweet strings who rang
ere captive tongues grew faint in foreign lands.
But they who carried us away amused
themselves requesting songs of mirth and cheer.
Malevolent commands can’t be refused
by the conquered sons of God enthralled by fear.
In stealth we string our harps as bows of war
to pluck out secret strength which they ignore.