III Malta Romance Anno Domini


III MALTA ROMANCE ANNO DOMINI 

A servant of the poor and sick (Our Lords) 
With all of one's being wounded, uncertain 
In the most humble city built by gentlemen 
For gentlemen, the umbrella is like a sword 

The cloak of purity and innocence to wear 
And the Beatitudes in a necklace hanging 
On hope when it is hopeless, dry and barren 
Ground to stand even against the odd(s) 
Where thoughts are falling to pieces 
Amidst the limestone and sand 

At the square of my namesake 
No shelter from the bombs raining 
Hundreds of thousands, the great sieges 
Or another traitor with a forged letter 
”Now lies at anchor under the guns of...” 
The island will receive them 

Not unlike the George Cross 
Along the movements of this wheel 
Of the sun, the cardinal points and virtues 
Will Providence be the seafarer's guide 



And the knights were (s)ailing
The broken-hearted carrack St. Anne
The Hospitaller flagship came to Malta
And saw fishing boats with the eye

Sacra Infermeria 
In the arms of his brethren, 
Almost without any sickness 
Blessed Gérard fell and died 
How arms were meant for men 
Like the Grand Master La Valette 
Who fought back against the wall 
There in the Unconquered, Conspicuous 
And the Victorious, the three cities 
And witheld, to last one more time 
”For the beheading of St. John the Baptist” 

Safe Haven Garden and vedette 
Byron's farewell becoming a salute 
In the flows of time from and to this day 
With the shipwrecked who brought 
The Icon of Our Lady of Mellieħa 
And the sacred convoy arriving 



In the weakest hour, the weakest moment 
The most humble city built by gentlemen 
For gentlemen, the umbrella as my sword 
And with my back against the wall 
Terrified I stood there, losing sanity 
When thoughts fall to pieces, vulnerable 
Hope when it is hopeless (Ecce A. D.) 
Near St. Lawrence and Fort St. Angelo 
”And witheld, to last once again” 
Courage in Malta 

September 8th 2014, the Victory Day

For Lavra, Saint Lawrence and Blessed Gérard, 
To the Island Fortress and Republic of Malta

I go – but God knows when, or why, 
To smoky towns and cloudy sky, 
To things (the honest truth to say) 
As bad – but in a different way. 


-Lord Byron / Farewell to Malta