/lit/ - Literature

Okay, this is the complete poem, with some revision still needed:

Another order, another exodus, another day
Outermarch along switchback trails and reddened clay
Past soft ponderosa pines and pinyon scruff
Up sheer pink palisades painted by God’s own brush
The enemy was not there, their newest foe camped to the North and West
The station at Zion would be abandoned, left to the lonely blessed
So up and out we scrambled from the Park and the Virgin’s fountain
And left not a trace behind upon those watercolor mountain

They came from far and wide to claim our work of hand
The scent of well-worn earth and bounty drew to our land
Dust storm deserts crash the outlands and dry lifeless plains
We of Zion understand such is life among the remains
So blackguards from far afield come to take our bread and wine
I will break them like a spear, they will never take what’s mine
They do not know what Hell they’ve stirred by stepping on these stones
I have God’s own vainglory as I shall crash upon their bones

It was outermarch from the Virgin’s sawspruce grove
Up pink canyon wall switchbacks as eagles dove
And our hands on rifle and hands on belt
Sun stained skin and uniform her wrath hath dealt
Ocher face painted soldiers, splintered stocks and rusted gun
The saints of Angel’s Landing demand their work be done
We will fight them in the field, we will hunt them where they run
I will crush them beneath my boot of Zion and this hateful sun